I Got This, You Got This
by Lily-Finn178
Summary: One-shot collection, Chlerek/ One-shot 14: "You've got me?" "Yeah." "What if you had more than just me?" /On hiatus until December
1. 7 AM, Waking Up in the Morning

Disclaimer: I do not own Darkest Powers. Nor do I own Rebecca Black's song Friday (not that I would want to...)

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><p><span>I Got This, You Got This<span>

One-shot 1:

"7 AM, Waking Up in the Morning"

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><p>Summary: "Can we save the ordering around for later? It's too early in the morning, and I'm barely awake. I don't have enough energy to properly tell you off."<p>

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><p>The point of hiding from the St. Cloud cabal was to do just that: hide. Whether that meant ducking behind dumpsters or squatting in abandoned buildings at any sign of danger, they had to do whatever they could to make it seem like they were invisible, like they had dropped off the face of the planet. That did not mean sitting outside in the bright morning sunlight, right out in the open, and exposing herself to the entire world driving by the cheap motel they had settled in the night before.<p>

"Get inside." He shouldn't have to tell her that, but apparently, Chloe wasn't trying to play it safe that morning. Which was completely fine because it wasn't as if they had run away from peril only, you know, two weeks ago. Two weeks and acting like they were in the clear from anyone chasing after them. Derek knew better. They would always be running. It wasn't going to take two weeks for all of this to end, for all of them to be safe again.

"I will in a minute." Chloe said through a yawn.

"No. Right now. Inside." Didn't she see? That man standing across the street getting a newspaper from the stand could very well be an agent sent by the Edison Group. He might have been wearing innocently-colored blue crocs, but that didn't stop the werewolf from being skeptical. Blue crocs. Yeah right. Like those were above suspicion.

"Can we save the ordering around for later? It's too early in the morning, and I'm barely awake." She waved a hand up at him limply, another yawn forcing her jaw wide open. "I don't have enough energy to properly tell you off."

Yikes. Someone was grouchy this morning. On closer inspection, Derek noted the sheet wrapped around her shoulders and the flashlight on the ground next to her on the walkway. The spaces under her eyes were dark and slightly puffy with exhaustion. Sitting next to her, he asked, "Have you been out here _all night long_?"

Her silence was enough of a response for her, and he felt the frustrated growl at the back of his throat. Catching his girlfriend outside without anyone else was one thing, but her being alone outside for a long stretch of time was a whole other problem.

"How long?"

"Derek-"

"For _how long_, Chloe?"

"I came outside about two hours after you went to bed." He'd left her last night at ten, his father calling him back to the room they shared with Simon. Two hours after that...Midnight. Now it was seven in the morning. She'd been out there almost eight hours.

"_Do you realize how incredibly _irresponsible_ that was_?" He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his voice at a near-hiss. As it was, he was ready to full-out shout at her. Suppose the people they were running from finally found them. She'd be out there, with no one, nothing to protect her from an ambush. Sitting duck, that's what she'd be. There were no words to describe what a mistake she'd made. If it'd been insomnia, she should have woken him up as well. He might not be much protection from a tranq dart stealing through the night to prick their necks, but he had his nose and his ears. He would've been able to tell something was wrong and rushed them into hiding.

Before he could tell her all of this, though, she grabbed his arm. "There was a ghost. In the room."

"Even still, you could have come to me..." He wanted to continue, but she was shaking her head, trying to explain more.

"It was a woman. I think she died in the room and was a residual, one of those reenactments of a ghost's death. Because she didn't follow me when I left. And..." She was staring off into the distance, watching some remembered spirit that filled her eyes with heartache. With a shake of her head, she brought herself back into the present conversation. "She kept hovering over the bed, tucking me in, so I think she must have been in their with her child. And she was telling me to go to sleep. Except I _couldn't_ sleep, not with her there."

She didn't say out loud what she was thinking. That she couldn't sleep with the ghost there because she was waiting, waiting for the reenactment to turn deadly. When Margaret, an older, supposedly wiser necromancer, had been giving her lessons at their not-so-safe safe house, she'd clarified that the ghostly residuals were what happened in truly traumatic deaths. Chloe must have laid in bed wide awake, wondering when exactly she'd find out how the woman and whoever she had been tucking in had died.

The last time this had happened, with the grotesque murder in the woods, Derek had sworn he'd yell at her if she didn't have him there. It was on the tip of his tongue to do so, in fact, but Chloe's hand was crawling into his, and her head lazily moving towards his shoulder. How could he yell at her when she was clearly about to pass out? No, he'd save it for later when she was wide awake and able to yell back herself over how he was certainly being unreasonable and far too overprotective.

Still, it worried him. Had she gotten him, woken him up, what would he have done? Told the ghost off? Yeah, because talking to a ghost in the past had _really_ worked in the past. And those ones had been true ghosts, not just the leftover energy from their deaths. It burned brightly in his mind, like a giant neon sign. There was nothing he could have done. Nothing at all.

"We'll switch rooms tonight. I'll tell Dad, he'll talk to your aunt," he whispered against her forehead, mouth coming into soft contact with her skin, breath blowing her bangs into movement. "You won't have to deal with it again."

She gave a grunt of approval, eyes closed, chest steadily moving up and down, and body heavy against his side as she floated off to a dreamland where ghosts were forbidden, forgotten.

"No more staying up all night outside. I won't have to yell at you again." Sleeping she may be, but he felt he should continue reassuring her. Protect her from assailants, he could do. Protect her from guns and crazy mad scientists, he could do. Protect her from the things only she could see, well, he was going to do that, too. As best he could.

"And tomorrow morning, I'm not going to come outside and find you sitting here. You'll be inside, you hear me?" He took her quiet snore as compliance and lightly squeezed their tangled fingers.

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><p><span>Authoress's Notes:<span> I feel so accomplished, finishing two things for DP in one week! XD

Anyways, this here is a new Chlerek one-shot collection, with each chapter being based off one lyric from the song "Friday". My friend and I thought this up yesterday for our separate fandoms and surprisingly, we're going through with it (I'm writing for DP, she's writing for Yu-Gi-Oh). We haven't figured out the schedule just yet, but we want to update a new addition every Friday, in honor of it being, duh, Friday.

It is not recommended that you listen to "Friday" while reading this. Please, save your ears. Unless it is a version of "Friday" you like. I, myself, find that I can actually get a bit pumped while listening to the Glee rendition of it. Although, I only listened to my Darkest Powers playlist while writing this. Because I'm a fan like that.

Hope you enjoyed! Thanks to all who read/review!


	2. Gotta Be Fresh, Gotta Go Downstairs

I Got This, You Got This

One-shot 2:

"Gotta Be Fresh, Gotta Go Downstairs"

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><p>Summary: "Thanks for helping me dress, Simon. My own personal fairy godmother." "The fact that you mentioned Cinderella makes <em>you<em> the uncool one here."

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><p>How the hell did Simon do it? Throw on a shirt, then a pair of sneakers, and walk out the door. I've seen him get ready for these things probably over a hundred times throughout the past couple of years. He puts no effort into it at all, so why should I? And then he finds the gall to ask me "Is that what you're wearing? Dude, it's your first date."<p>

What did that mean? Did guys really dress up all special for a first date? It's not even that big a deal. Except the whole 'will she reject me after our first time out together?'. Not that I was worried Chloe would reject me. At least, not over what I wore to the date. Maybe if I was a total jack ass, but I was going to be on my best behavior, I was positive of that. I would give her no reason to dismiss me as dating material, so it didn't matter that I was wearing what I had on all day.

If I was lucky, she'd let me down in the nicest way possible.

"What would you wear?" I turned towards where he was sitting on his bed, drawing in his sketch pad.

He shrugged, not looking up at me as he concentrated on the lines his pencil was making. "I don't know. Shirt, shoes?"

So much for the experienced Casanova. Just what I thought. He had no idea what he was doing, either. I could be excused for my lack of information in this area; he couldn't, having been at it much longer than me.

"A _clean_ shirt, at least. No mud on your shoes. I think," he corrected himself.

I looked down at the laundry piled on my bed. I hadn't gotten around to putting them away yet. There wasn't much there to begin with. With only escaping from the Edison Group and the St. Clouds a week ago, there hadn't been much time to go shopping for new clothes. And I had already lost a couple pairs of shorts, with a couple of unexpected Changes. My choices were slim. At least they were _clean_.

Picking up a plain white shirt, I looked it over and noticed the gray circles under the sleeves. Well, _mostly_ clean. The other shirts weren't that much better. Couldn't be helped, though. Since my first Change, there had been less acne, less greasy hair, but it was still too recent. Puberty was still having it's damn way with me, and might take awhile to back off. I chose the shirt that looked the newest, and therefore, the nicest. It would have to do.

As I took off the shirt I had on and pulled the new one over my head, Simon absentmindedly asked, "You took a shower, right?"

"This morning."

"Derek." His tone was so urgent, so different from a second ago when his mind had been occupied with thoughts of drawing, that I looked him right in the eye. "Take a shower."

"What?"

"Take a shower, Derek. You have to."

"I'll take one tonight." Like I did every night, he knew that.

"No, Derek. Take one _before_ the date. It's polite." He set aside the sketch pad and picked up a shoe, throwing it in my direction. I dodged it, of course, but now I was concerned for his mental health and why it mattered so much that I take a shower. "What have you done today, Derek?"

I thought about it, going through my day in my mind. Woke up, ate breakfast, homeschool with Dad, hung out with Chloe, ignored Tori, did laundry at the laundromat next door, played ball with Simon at the park down the street... None of this jumped out at me as important, and I told him this.

"None of it's important. What's important is that you have been doing stuff all day, getting dirt and dust and who knows what else all over you. Sweating. You need a shower."

Did guys seriously think about these kind of things? Normal guys, non-werewolf, non-supernatural guys, the kind of guys whose biggest worry was if they had a _clean_ shirt to wear on a date? I shook my head, wondering why people put so much thought into taking a freaking shower. Deodorant was enough, wasn't it? "There's no time. I have to leave-"

"Now." Simon had walked over to the window of our hotel room and pointed. "Chloe's already waiting down in the parking lot."

Swearing under my breath, I smoothed down the wrinkles in my shirt (presentable, right?) and shoved my feet into my sneakers, still bright white from the store. "Thanks for the help, Simon. My own personal fairy godmother." I couldn't help the sarcastic bite to my words.

"The fact that you mentioned Cinderella makes _you_ the uncool one here."

I flipped him off. Then, I was out the door and in the hallway, making my way to the stairs to reach the hotel parking lot below. As I reached the top steps, I stopped, hesitating. No one was around. I lifted an arm and took a quick sniff. Yep. Deodorant working.

_Relax_. She's seen me in worse conditions. One missed shower shouldn't make any difference. I took the stairs two at a time, and Chloe was waving as my feet hit the concrete below. The restlessness in my gut calmed down. There was Chloe, smiling at me. _She_ had taken a shower, if the fruity smell of shampoo hitting my nostrils was any indication, but she didn't seem to be immediately telling me to get lost over my lack of cleanliness. No, she was walking over to meet me, lips wide and encouraging.

"Ready?" Chloe asked. She sounded nervous, but excited. I was, too.

Leaning forward, I pressed my mouth against her cheek. Not a real kiss, but something to tide us over until later. After the date.

"Yeah. Now I am."

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><p><span>Authoress's Notes:<span> Happy Friday, everyone! Here's the next installment of this silly little one-shot collection! So, it's all been determined, this collection will update every Friday (unless, of course, something tragic happens, like... my computer gets thrown out a window, but let's cross our fingers and hope nothing so terrible happens...) and it'll be around 30 so chapters. It would be more, but when I sat down to really look at Friday lyrics, there turned out to be a LOT of repeated lines, so those had to go. Because I'm not going to write five chapters about 'Partyin', Partyin' (Yeah!)'...no matter how much I want to.

This segment was inspired by the latest chapter in Kelley Armstrong's DP novella, where Derek was asking Simon about giving a gift to Chloe for their third anniversary. Because I love the idea of a clueless! Derek. He's so tough and assured all the time that when it comes to things he doesn't know very well, I just fall in love with his character all over again. So, I hope you all love a clueless! Derek just as much as I loved writing him. XD

My visiting cousin from Florida is serenading Twilight songs to me. It's so cute, but totally distracting me from DP.

So, thanks for reading/reviewing!


	3. Gotta Have My Bowl, Gotta Have Cereal

I Got This, You Got This

One-shot 3:

"Gotta Have My Bowl, Gotta Have Cereal"

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><p>Summary: "Simon said sharing is caring." Of course. Teaching Derek manners. Too bad he never used them until it conflicted with the wants of someone else. Namely, his girlfriend.<p>

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><p>"I knew it." The deep voice made me jump, scattering bits of food on the couch. The living room was dark, the only light coming from the muted television screen. That didn't stop me from trying to brush off the crumbs and discreetly shove the bowl under a throw pillow, but it was no use and Derek told me so.<p>

"You're the one who stole the Lucky Charms," he held out a hand. "Hand them over."

I shushed him, peeking over the top of the couch to look at the doorway. It was late, but anyone could be up at this hour, sneaking around. Getting up to go to the bathroom. Eating a bowl of cereal on the sly. But, no. Just Derek. No one else in sight.

He stepped over, arm reaching forward to yank the bowl of magically delicious cereal from my clutches. I held it out of his range. "Nuh-uh. No way. Get your own."

"I would, but someone took the entire box." A pointed look told me he knew who it was now. "Come on, fork it over."

Faking it, telling him I had no idea what he was talking about, wouldn't work. I knew he could smell the sugar and sweetness, and he knew I knew. It just didn't seem fair that the moment I got to eat in peace, he would ruin it. "You and Simon devoured the last box."

"So? Sharing is caring."

"Who told you that?"

"Simon." Of course. Teaching Derek manners. Too bad he never used them until it conflicted with the wants of someone else. Namely, his girlfriend.

Coming upon unhealthy foods was rare with Kit and Aunt Lauren doing the grocery shopping. Kit was used to buying foods for a diabetic son, and Aunt Lauren, being a doctor, wasn't much better. Sometimes, they'd relent, realizing the majority of the household _were_ teenagers. Teenagers who wanted more than salads and fruits in their diets.

So far, the adults had let loose with the cereal. Not by much, though. One box of Lucky Charms compared to the many bagels and breakfast bars and glasses of orange juice. Healthy breakfast means more energy for the day, they said. So, they weren't going to load us up on junk food early in the morning. Us kids could care less. Even Tori was ready to scarf down something extremely fattening and threatening to her slim figure, which meant we were all about to go crazy with the lack of yummy treats.

Since we were all acting like starving vultures, the Lucky Charms were bound to be eaten quickly. I had known this as I had been unpacking groceries that morning. Fear of not getting my own bowl had prompted me to stealthily slip the box from the cabinet. Simon and Tori would never figure out I'd taken it. Derek, on the other hand...

"If I give it to you, you'll eat it all."

"No, I won—Fine. Yes, I will. I'm hungry."

"Eat some crackers!" I had to launch myself off the couch as Derek climbed over it. Holding the bowl close to my chest, I tried to make it out of the living room. Derek leaned over, stretched out his arm and grabbed me by the waist. Before I knew what was happening, I was being pulled back and down, the ceiling flashing above my eyes. And then I was on the floor, Derek having tackled me. Lucky Charms had spilled all over my neck and the floor.

"Now look what you did!" Wasted. That glorious cereal, now collecting dirt and germs on the ground, Derek eying them thoughtfully. "Please tell me you're not considering still eating them."

"_No._" He rolled his eyes and sat up, but the slight pinkness of his cheeks told me he had. Him and his werewolf appetite. Cute, but I didn't tell him that, saving him the embarrassment.

Wiping off the cereal sticking to my throat, I sat up, kneeling in front of me. The back of my head hurt from where it banged against the carpet, but it didn't feel like any serious damage. Derek must have been worried about that, when he saw me massaging the spot through my hair. I might have a bump there tomorrow, but I wasn't going to make him feel guilty. He was already giving me that whipped puppy dog look, the one that figured I was angry at him for knocking me over and spilling the bowl of dry cereal. I wasn't, really, but he didn't need to know that.

"I'll get us the box." Now, he was grinning, hunger eagerly awaiting the snack. "_But_ you better keep where I hid it a secret. No telling Simon." I wasn't worried about his telling Tori. He wouldn't willingly give up its whereabouts to someone who, just that afternoon, told him he smelled like wet dog.

"And if I do?" Blabbing to Simon, however, was another story. Partners in food-stealing crime, those two.

My face was inches from his, our breath mingling. Green eyes flicked to my mouth, then back into my gaze, expectantly. I got even closer, whispering, "You don't want to find out."

Then I got up, off to get us the Lucky Charms, left him sitting there to think it over.

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><p><span>Authoress's Notes: <span> Hope you all have a wonderful Friday! Maybe you'll even go see Harry Potter. That's what I would be doing right now...if I had money and transportation to the movie theatre at midnight... Oh well, I'll see it soon enough. Until then, I'll diligently work on a DP collection that shows "Friday" in a more favorable light.

I enjoyed writing this one-shot just because I don't think I really get to write Derek and Chloe in such playful moods. And there are many more to come after this. Most of my plans for this collection have fun/playful Chlerek situations. There'll be some angst, but for the most part, I like to keep it light. As the wise (insert sarcastic laughter here) Rebecca Black once said: Fun, fun, fun, fun.

I hope all of you out there keep it fun today. I know I will. ;D Thanks for reading/reviewing!


	4. Seeing Everything, the Time is Goin'

I Got This, You Got This

One-shot 4:

"Seeing Everything, The Time is Goin' "

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><p>Summary: "She didn't know which tortured her more, missing a part of her show or missing a glimpse of her shirtless boyfriend."<p>

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><p>It was after midnight, Chloe was camped out on the TV room couch, and there was a LOST marathon running. The necromancer had always liked movies more than the shows that aired every week, but<p>

when the adventure show had begun, she'd been sucked into it like many others. For a time, she'd been completely obsessed, wrapped up in the characters and the mysteries. Her fixation had stopped halfway through the second season.

When you lived in the New York state country, the closest thing to the middle of nowhere for a city girl, it wasn't like there were new excitements to be had each day. A few days after moving into the farm house, the hullabaloo had worn down because things got boring pretty quickly when the only entertainment available was laundry, dishes, and watching wolf-Derek prance around in the forest. Well, Chloe was still having fun with that, but Simon and Tori had given it up when they realized the mall was closer than they thought.

During the times Chloe wasn't helping Derek adjust to his Changes, she'd been watching TV. Strange, to see all her favorite series after being away from quality cable for so long. Almost a lifetime, it seemed. Too bad it was nearing summer, and that meant most shows were already wrapping up their present seasons. That meant more reruns were playing than new episodes. One night, she'd found a channel playing every season of LOST. Just like that, she was hooked again, staying up until all hours of the night watching Jack and Kate and Sawyer...

She couldn't miss a single episode. A single scrap of dialogue. Miss one thing and you missed the entire show. Appropriate that it was called LOST because that's what she'd be if she even dared to blink during one of Hurley's scenes or someone asked her a question while characters were exploring the hatch. Living in a house with five other people had resulted in Chloe missing out on several important parts already. Hence, the late hour. Back to back episodes until the local news channel came on in the early morning. Everyone was dreaming of sheep and waterfalls, but Chloe's mind was stuck on that cryptic island.

Except tonight.

Shuffling noises floated from the hallway, in the direction of the kitchen. It had to be Derek. He'd passed by the TV room awhile ago and muttered a groggy 'hello', to which Chloe had given a distracted greeting back, too focused on the television screen. After a snack, he'd gone back to bed. Fast forward an hour and he was up again, this time for a second snack.

Chloe's fingers tightened around the remote, ears intent on the sounds in the kitchen. Before, Derek had been quiet and stealthy, sneaking around and always making her jump out of her skin. Now he made a point of bumping into furniture and stubbing his toes on corners, just so she knew he was approaching. So, she'd heard him coming down the stairs, peripheral vision trained on the doorway so she could see him pass and not miss a second of her show.

It was then, a commercial came on and she'd turned her attention to the hallway outside the door to say hi to her boyfriend, that Chloe had gotten a full glimpse of him. A full glimpse of half naked him.

She'd be lying if she said her face hadn't burned instantly and faced the TV again in a rush. With all his Changes, Chloe had seen Derek wearing less than just his shorts, but always in an extreme case of sweat and fur and doggy breath. Before her LOST watching spree, she hadn't really stayed up late with him, and if she had, he was always completely clothed—_both_ of them had been. It almost slipped her mind that the werewolf was packed with abs and biceps and other muscly body parts she couldn't name offhand. Felt like ages ago when she'd woken him up in the middle of the night at Lyle House, catching that first sight of the male body hidden beneath his shirts.

It didn't help that they were under extreme supervision on Aunt Lauren's part. A secret rendezvous couldn't get past her aunt's eagle eye. Chloe might as well have said goodbye to Derek's...manlier aspects.

Except Aunt Lauren was sleeping. While Derek was shirtless. And hungry.

Was there a god for the midnight munchies? Chloe was sure there must be, one somewhere up in the clouds that controlled the timing of Derek's nightly visits to the pantry so that they corresponded perfectly with commercials.

A soft creak alerted her attention. She checked the TV, where a new segment of commercials were trying to convince her to buy a brand new pick up truck. Light footsteps on the hardwood floor. Yep, like clockwork.

Chloe threw the remote she was holding to the side, getting off the couch. The hallway was dark, but she could see the shadowy outline of Derek's bare shoulders in the faint light from the television. He was walking slower than usual, probably due to having just woken up from sleep. A worried glance back at the screen. Still a commercial. She had time before her show was playing again, although if Derek took any longer, she'd miss the last five minutes.

Could he be any slower? Normally, his stride was quick and efficient. Now it felt like ages before he took a single step. Chloe squinted into the darkness. Perhaps it wasn't Derek. Simon then? No, too big to be Simon. It didn't look like Kit, either, but Chloe couldn't be too certain.

Checked on the TV. Checked the hallway. If there was any moment where Chloe wished she was one of those shamans who could astral project, it was this one. One standing watch over the TV to watch the conclusion to the LOST episode, one to wait patiently at the door to get a close up of Derek.

The commercial was almost over. She bit her lip, torn between rushing back to the couch. But if she did that, she'd miss Derek until he came back from the kitc—Wait! She could see him _after_ the show was done, then walk back upstairs with him and talk a bit before finally going to sleep. Why hadn't she thought of that plan before? Obviously, the late hour was messing with her plan-making abilities, if she couldn't easily come up with that solution in the first place. And what a solution, just in time for the commercial to end!

But before she could settle back in her spot on the couch... "Chloe?"

_Now _he chose to pass by the TV room. Right as LOST was coming back on. She jumped up, holding her hands out to push him from the doorway and in the direction of the kitchen. "No, Derek, get a snack! Come back in five minutes!"

Her hands landed on skin. Warm skin. Naked skin. Warm, naked Derek skin. Light from the screen played off that skin, and Chloe's eyes were glued to...well...warm, naked Derek skin. Her right hand was pressed against the collarbone above his heart, and she could feel the steady pulse beneath her palm. Was it speeding up? Or was that hers? Oh, yikes, her face felt red hot. Fortunately, her face was turned away from the screen and its flashing lights, so there wasn't much chance of the werewolf seeing how incredibly embarrassed and nervous she was. Although he was probably sensing that from her stuttered mumbles of incoherent stream of nonsense words.

She should just shut up and remove her hands. Yet, she couldn't. This was different than comforting Derek through a Change. This was touching Derek in a very girlfriend-ly way. This was looking up and leaning forward and closing eyes and pursing lips and-

Grururrrrrggghhhhh.

…

_Grururrrrrggghhhhh_?

Derek stepped back, taking her hand gently from his chest and placing it back at her side. A kiss to her forehead and one "Better get that snack now", and he was gone.

She'd had her advances rejected in favor of food. Huh.

Chloe turned back towards the TV, brain still trying to process what had just happened. She'd been turned down..._for food_.

The local news channel was discussing the weekly weather. It took Chloe a second to ponder why it was so strange for the late night weather forecast when it hit her. She'd been so caught up with Derek that she lost track of the time._ She'd missed the end of her show_!

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><p><span>Authoress's Notes:<span> Awww, that Derek's stomach! Haha, I was kind of stuck writing the middle of this, but once I got past that, it was so delightful to write this! I might continue this idea, if I can fit it with another lyric because I don't feel that it's necessarily finished yet. There needs to be more lovin'. Although things already got a bit saucy in this one-shot. There'll be more of that, I can assure you. ;D

So, anyone listen to Rebecca Black's new song, My Moment, released this past Monday? If you haven't, you don't want to. The fakeness of it nearly drove me to tears. Almost killed my Monday. As if she hasn't done enough day-killing already. I'm drowning out her unmemorable voice with some Frank Sinatra now because oldies music makes me happy and reminds me that in a time long before I was born, there was no autotune.

Hope everyone has a pleasant Friday! Last Friday I got sunburned like crazy, so this Friday will be the first time in a week I've left my house because I no longer resemble a lobster and can visit with friends. Although there's an awful heat wave going on outside, so staying in my air-conditioned house might be on the agenda.

Thanks for reading/ reviewing!


	5. Tickin' On and On, Everybody's Rushin'

I Got This, You Got This

One-shot 5:

Tickin' On and On, Everybody's Rushin'

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><p>Summary: "There's something worse than getting caught in the shower with a ghost. And that's getting caught in the shower with the fire alarm going off throughout the building."<p>

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><p>Turns out, some people are still disgusting pigs even after they've died. As ghosts, they like to lurk into restrooms and showers, all the while their human victims are unknowing that they're performing a delightful show. Give a ghost creeper the women's floor bathroom of a college dormitory hall and they're set for, well, the afterlife.<p>

I met my first peeping tom ghost the first week my freshman year, as he was waiting for me to open the flimsy shower curtain to grab my towel. He told me his name, winked at me, and disappeared before my hallmates could run into the bathroom wondering why quiet, little Chloe Saunders from room 215 was screaming so loudly just because she got soap in her eye. I permanently removed him from the bathroom the next morning.

I thought that would be the worst thing about the communal college shower, other than having to wear flip flops in fear of getting a foot disease. But no. There's something worse than getting caught in the shower with a ghost.

And that's getting caught in the shower with the fire alarm going off throughout the building.

I set the shampoo bottle back in the plastic shower caddy at my feet, water raining down my head and washing out the fruity hair wash. The alarm was echoing in the empty bathroom, making it even louder than it already was. Standing still, I let the water fall over me, a picture of calm. Except I was panicking.

My head was encased in suds and my body slippery with soap I had yet to wash off. The fire alarm was ringing, not seeming to stop anytime soon. I reached over and turned off the water, steam rising and leaving me shivering when the cool air hit. Maybe...if I was quiet enough, stood like a statue, no one would notice I was still in here. Odds are it was just a routine alarm, nothing serious. It'd be over in a couple of minutes.

Still ringing. Yeah. It wasn't letting up. Great.

Someone told me once they actually _do_ check the bathrooms during routine fire alarms. Would they check now? Would they check in the case of a real fire? Crap. _Was_ this a real fire? Tori was sleeping back in my room, and she slept deeply, perhaps even deep enough to sleep through—Why the hell was I worrying about Tori when I was the one soaking wet and naked in the bathroom?

_All right, Chloe, get your priorities straight here_, I grabbed my towel, wrapping it around myself without bothering to dry off, then stopped. Did I have time to dry off? Put on clothes? It was the middle of November. Which meant cold outside. For once, I was regretting my decision to choose a college closer to home. Had I gone with my dream school of UCLA, I wouldn't be having this problem. Although I could go farther and say that if I wasn't constantly on the run from the Edison Group, I probably would have gone to school in California. But no, I chose the small, obscure college almost on the border of New York state just so they'd have a tougher job of finding me.

Outside the bathroom, a couple of girls were rushing down the hall towards the stairs. I could hear them talking about seeing smoke, and my heart sped up. Smoke? As in, a real fire? That kind of smoke. Oh, no. No. No. No.

Holding the towel up with one hand, I made a grab for the shower caddy. Knocked it over and scattered all my toiletries instead. Figured it was okay if I lost them to the fire and left, flip flops smacking against the linoleum floor with loud, wet pops.

Room 215 was a single, tucked all the way at the back of the hall, between the closet with the cleaning supplies and the door leading to the stairwell. I'd chosen the single room for myself, despite its costing more because it was already awkward waking up to ghosts in the night without a roommate to wonder if I was insane because I was talking to thin air. The room itself was small and cramped, the door always swinging to collide with the closet whenever I opened it. And just my luck, it was haunted by the ghost of a young girl with overly permed hair and electric blue leg warmers. Yet, it was a private space where nobody except the ghosts knew I was a necromancer. Plus, I no longer had to share a room with Tori.

Other than this weekend, that is. Tori's school had a longer Thanksgiving break than mine, so she was visiting early. The plan was for her to stay with me for the weekend, and when my break started after my last class on Monday, we'd drive back home to Aunt Lauren and Kit. Derek came with her, and I imagine that car ride couldn't have been much fun. Surprisingly, they both made it here and without one of them as a ghost.

I reached my door, hand pushing down the doorknob to find it locked. I froze, pressing down on the handle. Lifting my hand, I tried again. Nope. The door was locked. Locked. It. Was. Locked.

"TORI!" I shoved my shoulder into the door, jiggling the handle, as if doing either of those things would somehow magically open it. Switching, I pounded my fist on the wood, shouting. "Open the door! Come on! Wake up!"

Derek picked the perfect time to go bring us breakfast. He was going to return, find the entire building burned to the ground, his girlfriend's charred skeleton still clutching a doorknob. Wouldn't that be the stuff to write a movie on? Wait, no. _Get it together! This is no time to be thinking about movies!_

My opened palm slapped the door repeatedly, desperately hoping the sound would wake Tori up. Even though the fire alarm was still blaring and should have been sufficient noise enough. After I lost count of how many slaps I made, my hand sailed through the teased up do of my spectral roommate. Kimberly didn't even duck, used to living beings walking through her. She was a sweet girl, and we probably would have hit it off as roommates even when she was alive, despite her always needling me about making my hair bigger. "She's gone."

"What?" Everyone had left because of the fire alarm, but that didn't stop me from looking around before talking to Kimberly.

"That friend of yours. Alarm went off and she booked."

"T-Tori? She's outside?"

"I kid you not, Clo," Kimberly thought shortening my name was "rad". I really didn't agree, but at this moment, I wasn't in the mood to point that out to her. "But more importantly, how 'bout you and that stud of yours, huh? Last night?"

"_What?_" I was back to jiggling the handle. Tori was outside. Tori locked the door on her way out because I remember leaving it unlocked when I left for the shower. Tori was going to get an earful if I managed to escape the fire.

"You _know_! Did you get," She lowered her voice, as if the hallway wasn't deserted and people other than me could hear her. "_Horizontal_ with him last night?"

"_Kimberly_! The building is _on fire_! My door is _locked_! I am not wearing _clothes_!" My jiggling of the doorknob was growing more intense by the second. If only I could break it. "And you want to know if I had sex with my boyfriend _only four feet away from Tori_!"

"Whoa, whoa! Don't have a cow, girl!" Kimberly backed away, more of her body vanishing behind the door. "I only wanted to know!"

"I'll have a cow if this door doesn't _open_. _Right. Now_!" Now I had both hands on the doorknob, alternatively pushing and pulling on it. I was half tempted to brace a leg against it, but my towel was starting to slip.

The door to the stairwell swung open. "Chloe!" It was Derek, the red on his cheeks mostly likely from the cold outside than his running up the stairs.

"The d-d-door!" Hands flew off the doorknob to fix the towel. "T-T-Tori—"

"Yeah, I saw her outside," He looped his arm around my back, steering me towards the stairs. "We've got to go. Damn alarm. Does it have to be so loud?"

"W-wait!" I struggled out of his hold. "No, Derek!"

"Chloe, I just had to wait in line for almost half an hour because a woman paid in all coins. When I got back, I find the entire building evacuated except, Tori says, for you. Let's go." He tried to get me moving again, but I was pressing my feet into the carpeted floor. Not that that would stop him if he decided to just pick me up and carry me out the door. Which I had a feeling he might do.

"I'm naked, Derek! Naked!" I felt like I was two again and throwing a tantrum for having to go to bed early. "I'm only wearing a _towel!_"

He stopped then, glancing down long enough to register that yes, under that towel, there must be nothing. Trying to hide his red face (because unlike what Kimberly wanted to hear, we had never really...yeah), he fumbled with his jacket zipper. "Here, use this—"

"Are you serious? I can't wear only a jacket!"

"Don't waste time. Put it on, pretend its a dress. Come on, I hear a fire truck coming." He was already setting it on my shoulders, his hands zipping it back up from the bottom before I could protest. I was making the plan in my head to ask him to just break the door lock so I could run in and grab, I don't know, underwear, at least. But Derek had made up his mind and zipped the jacket as far as it would go. True enough, the jacket fell just above my knees like a dress. If a long, bulky winter coat could be called a dress.

Derek pulled down the hem of the jacket, fingers skimming over the material until it found the edge of my towel. Putting the jacket on me had brought him well within my personal bubble, so I could feel the warmth his body gave off, the warmth that had made his jacket feel nice and cozy on my skin. My back leaned against the locked door, and I couldn't raise my vision above his neck. His fingertips skated along the border of cloth and thigh flesh, and it was like a vacuum stole all the air out of my lungs. He was so, so close...

"Oh, grody to the max! About to do the nasty right in front of me! Lame, Clo, lame!"

"Derek." I pushed against his shoulders, when all I wanted to do was pull him closer, have him break open the locked door, and stay inside with our own personal fire.

He backed away, and it occurred to me that he had slowly been getting closer, without me pulling him. "Right. Yeah. Not the time for this. Let's go." The redness in his cheeks had left, but he was flustered now, which let me know his mind had been on the same page as mine.

I kept the towel on under the jacket, hugging my torso tightly so it wouldn't fall, and covered my slightly dripping hair with the hood. With one last narrowed look at Kimberly, I let Derek hurry me down the stairs.

* * *

><p>"Sheesh. That only took you guys forever." Tori was standing apart from the other students standing around. Thankfully, it seemed most of them had fled to the heat of the dining hall next door, so Chloe didn't feel so foolish emerging from the dorm in only a jacket, towel, and flip flops. Just as she predicted, there was a chilly bite to the air, creating goosebumps on her exposed legs. "You should've seen Super Wolf run off into the building to save you. Even dropped our breakfast on the ground. What a hero." Tori snorted and shrugged her shoulders to show that, yes, she was being sarcastic, as was typical of her.<p>

"Tori. You locked the door." Derek had to express this for me, as my teeth were beginning to shake together.

"Well, yeah. That's what we have to do in my dorm if the alarm goes off." Tori crossed her arms in front of her, probably more for heat than to seem like she was insulting Derek's intelligence. She was dressed a bit more warmly than me, in cotton pajamas, and a thin sweater I vaguely remember hanging on the back of my desk chair. Taking in my appearance, her lips clamped together to hide a growing smirk. "Were you in the _shower_?"

"Y-y-y-yes." I would have expanded on this, but the cold and my shivering would take me five minutes to utter out a single sentence. Derek, in only his jeans and a short-sleeved tee, barely seemed bothered by the low temperature, but when I looked closely, the hairs on his arm were standing up. I inched over to him, circled my arms around his waist and held tightly. He put his hands on my back, rubbing lightly and I copied the motion so that we'd both warm up faster.

Head tucked against Derek's arm, I surveyed the building because it was starting to dawn on me that something wasn't right. "Where's all the smoke?"

"Smoke? There's no smoke." Tori looked around, as if waiting for smoke to magically appear.

"I know that. _Why_ is there no smoke? I heard someone say they saw smoke."

"I have no idea what they're talking about, then. There's no smoke."

"Why, Tori?" The cold and having to deal with Tori so early in the morning was making Derek growl under his breath.

"Are you telling me you don't smell it?" Tori finally let out the laughter that she was obviously holding in. Derek and I looked at each other, confused. "You're so concerned about rescuing Chloe, you didn't even use your doggy powers." Now, we both looked around before shushing Tori, who only waved us away because no one was listening to us.

A siren pierced the air, and Tori pointed behind us. "And look, there's the fire truck. Wow, all this hype for a simple burned bag of popcorn."

"_What?_"

* * *

><p><span>Authoress's Notes: <span> Happy Friday everyone! This one-shot's based on true events! Haha, I was having such a hard time coming up with an idea for this, when I suddenly remembered my own unfortunate being-caught-in-the-shower-as-the-fire-alarm-goes-off moment. Trust me, it was not fun. However, I was lucky enough that my roommate left the door unlocked, and I could throw on clothes quickly. And it helps my friend was living in the dorm next to mine, so I did not have to stand in the cold like everyone else. Although, I guess that's what you get when you wake up at two in the afternoon and shower. Another girl who lived down the hall from me got caught in the shower during our one-in-the-morning tornado warning. Oh, and one of my friends in my building set off the fire alarm by mistakenly cooking his cup of macaroni for thirty minutes instead of three. Ah, college. It's like one giant WTF moment.

If anyone's interested, I recently posted a new Chlerek three-shot that could use some lovin'! It also has a bit of Tori in it because I have recently found the love in writing Tori. Seriously. Just sit down and write a scene where Tori interacts with any other character. It just might blow your mind, as it has mine.

Have a pleasant Friday! I'm looking forward to the newest chapter of Kelley Armstrong's DP novella because I'm pretty sure that comes out...later today...not at 12:30 in the morning. But still, it'll make my Friday happy! Tune in next Friday as we make our way _down to the bus stop!_

I seriously wanted to make a legit joke in this one-shot about how _everybody's Russian_. Alas, I could not find the perfect place for it. Sigh.

Thanks for reading/reviewing!


	6. Gotta Get Down to the Bus Stop

I Got This, You Got This

One-shot 6:

Gotta Get Down to the Bus Stop

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><p>Summary: "I'm Chloe Saunders, by the way. You're a bit of an ass, but you deserve to know your savior's name."<p>

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><p>"Back in my day, kid, women wore clothes."<p>

Derek's thumb paused over the touchscreen of his cell phone. He'd been able to keep a straight face for some time now, but this was the last straw. The conversation had passed from innocently mindless territory into the deep waters of What The Hell Was The Old Man Talking About?

If the twenty-five year old had known before he sat down on the bench about the senior citizen who prattled on and on, he would have been sure to backtrack to another bus stop. He wasn't entirely sure, but there had to be another one around the immediate area. This particular stop just happened to be the closest to his new apartment complex, only a five minute walk down the street. He'd only been living in the apartment for three days now, rarely stepping outside as he settled in, so he hadn't thought to check up on the bus schedule yet. It was by pure chance he spotted this one.

Too bad the bus was running late. According to the time table next to the bench, it should have been at the stop...twenty minutes ago. The old man sitting next to him on the bench seemed to have been there far longer than that, and did not even seem too concerned that the bus was apparently way behind schedule.

Derek minded. He had a meeting at a restaurant uptown, the very first one for the job his brother Simon had set up for him. Not that he really cared for the job, some accounting spot that had opened up very recently at a company Simon's friend's brother's ex-girlfriend's uncle worked at. But it was an actual step towards a career, not some random job given to Derek by the temp agency he'd been part of since graduating college four years before. It also got him out of his father's house, living on his own for the first time. So, it was crucial he attend this dinner get together, or else he'd be back channel surfing on the basement couch in the house he'd grown up in.

Except the bus was late, his meeting started soon, and he was stuck on a bus stop bench listening to an old man gab on about how, evidently, women in this day and age didn't wear enough clothes.

"These, these girls," he swept his arm in front of him with a jerky motion. There was nobody in front of their bus stop. No one on the street at all. Derek wondered just who the old timer was gesturing towards. "Wearing their B-strings and tights. I can see their—"

"How about that bus? You think it's going to get here soon?"

The old man adjusted his glasses, which Derek could see were placed on upside down, and squinted at the baseball diamond in the park across the street. "Should be here in two minutes."

"Ah. Of course." Derek checked his phone, once again searching for the bus schedule online. The setting sun was in his eye, making it difficult to make out if he'd spelled the street address correctly. Probably, seeing as the phone app was telling him the nearest bus stop was two blocks away.

"Boys aren't much better, with all those tight trousers making them look like they have chicken legs. Either that, or down to their ankles, showing off their drawers. Nice to see some men know how to dress still." The older man patted Derek's khaki-clad knee, barely acknowledging Derek stiffening shoulders and his scooting just a bit farther away. If the old guy could see Derek in his baggy jeans on his days off, his opinion wouldn't be the same.

"I have a bowling league, boy. Pretty good, too. If you don't count Ruthie, but don't tell her I told you so. That's where I'm going now. Are you going to the alley, too?"

"No. You already asked."

"I did? Oh. Well, where are you going?"

"La Fancy Shmancy." Or something like that. Not that Derek really paid attention. Food was food, no matter what restaurant it was cooked in. He'd eat it. Besides, the old man looked a little lost, with his fisherman's cap tilted to the side and his shirt buttoned up wrong. Derek couldn't be too sure that the man wouldn't follow him off the bus to the restaurant instead of going to his bowling alley.

"Sounds nice." There was a moment of silence, the first in the time between now and when Derek had first sat down. It didn't last long. "So, a date then?"

"_No_."

The old man chuckled. "Don't try to fool me, kid. I know when a man dresses up for a date. Used to do it myself, sometimes with Ruthie. Oh, but don't tell her I told you. She gets embarrassed when I talk about all that necking."

He wasn't going to ask. He really, really wasn't going to ask. Nothing good could come from knowing what the hell 'necking' meant.

"So, what's her name? She a pretty gal?"

The more he scooted away from the old man, the more Derek could feel his thigh slipping off the bench. He checked the time on his phone again. If the bus managed to show up in the next couple of minutes, he would be cutting it close by the time he arrived at the restaurant. "Damn bus..."

"Pfft." The old man waved his hand. "You kids. When I was your age, I had to walk three miles back and forth to the grocery store. Waiting for the bus isn't going to kill you."

_Yeah, but the crazy old man who talks about the lack of women's apparel might,_ Derek wanted to snap back. At the sound of an engine, he turned his head. Approaching the bus stop was a dark maroon van with the words "Pine & Oaks Nursing Home" printed on the side. Rolling to a halt in front of the bench, the driver parked and exited the vehicle, rushing around the front.

She was wearing pink pants and a shirt with purple teddy bears. Scrubs, Derek noted. A nurse? She looked young, maybe in her very early twenties. Surely not old enough to have a nursing degree, right?

"Mr. Newman!" She grabbed the old man's hands, helping him up from the bench. "I've been looking all over for you."

"Miss Saunders! What are you doing here?" The so-called Mr. Newman winked at her. "Following me to the bingo game, were you?"

"You got me, Mr. Newman." Miss Saunders let out a laugh, steering him towards the van. She took a moment to take off his glasses and put them back right side up. "How about I give you a lift there?"

"All right, but don't tell Ruthie. She gets jealous, remember."

"Gotcha." Once Mr. Newman was safely tucked away in the van's back seat, the girl turned to the bench, finally taking in Derek. "Oh! Were you sitting with him? Thanks! I've been running to every stop, searching for him. It's so nice to see—"

"I'm just waiting for the bus." The impatience building in him might have let out in that statement, Derek saw when the girl winced at his tone. He might have felt sorry for snapping at her, if his time wasn't clearly being wasted.

She looked hesitant, brushing the short strands of blond hair behind her ear. Understanding dawned on her, her mouth dropping into an 'o' shape as she glanced between him and the time table next to the bench. "Um..."

"What is it now?"

"This isn't a real bus stop."

Mr. Newman was humming in the van. Insects were chirping in a nearby patch of grass. Derek was completely quiet.

"A few of the nursing homes set up fake bus stops around the city." Her hand pressed against her mouth, as though that could trap her laughter in. "For the dementia patients. That way, if they leave the homes, they'll wait for the buses until someone comes and picks them up."

Derek stood up to put his phone in his pocket, his six-foot-plus frame towering over the girl. "Is this supposed to be a joke?"

"Wh-what? No!" She was taken aback, alarmed by his intimidating stature and demanding voice. "The bus stop you're looking for is two blocks away."

"But the time table—" The volume of his voice was rising.

"Is about twenty years out dated." Hers also increased, expression changing to one of laughter to one that was defensive.

He took a step forward, finger pushing on the name tag attached to her shirt. "Look—Chloe—I've been sitting here for thirty minutes listening to that old fart—"

"_Excuse me? _Have some respect—"

"—rambling on about bowling and some chick named Ruthie—"

"—got a pretty bad attitude—"

"—smelling like prunes—"

"—deserve it if you miss your bus!"

Both paused, red in the face from their heated words. Took steps away from each other, realizing they'd gotten closer as they'd pointed fingers and accused with glares.

"What're you talking about?"

"Your bus. It'll be at the stop in about three minutes."

Muttering an oath, Derek spun on his hell and ran. Three minutes, two blocks? That was nothing. He'd been on the track team throughout high school and college. To be fair, though, that was years ago. His preferred method of exercising nowadays was running up the basement stairs to the kitchen when he ran out of chips during commercials. Not exactly a long distance relay.

Sweat was gathering beneath his shirt, one minute into his sprint. Yep, he was definitely not getting as much of a work out as he ought to. He'd take being kind of stinky over being late, though. The smell could be easily covered with the aromas in the restaurant. A job could not, which was why Derek's preference was to keep his new job.

After three minutes, he didn't recognize a single bus stop. Resting for a moment against a telephone pole, Derek took in his surroundings. A fast food joint, some rundown shops, no bus stop. How did they measure blocks in this city, anyway?

A car horn caught his attention. Swearing again when he saw the Pine & Oaks sign, he watched as that Chloe girl rolled down the passenger side window and called out a greeting. "Two blocks in the _other_ direction, genius!"

"I'm beginning to think you're leading me on a wild goose chase," he huffed out.

"Me? I'm just an innocent volunteer at a nursing home that happens to frequently lose its patients. Why would I get enjoyment from giving you wrong directions?" There was a laugh lurking behind her simple smile, Derek knew. A laugh at his expense. Chloe leaned across the seat next to her, opening the passenger door. "Hop in."

"Why?"

"Mr. Newman says you've got an important date to get to," she shook her head. "Always forgetting his wife's dead, but at least he remembered that." She stole a glance in the rear view mirror to the old man in the back seat, who had somehow turned his glasses upside down again.

Derek climbed into the van. "It's not a date, just a business dinner. I'm new in town, moved here for a job."

"That explains how you didn't know about the bus stops." She asked for the restaurant name, and he gave it, trusting her to know where the hell it was. In the back seat, Mr. Newman was wondering if they were going to get the early bird special. "So, not a date? No girlfriend then?"

"Cute, but you're too young for me." Derek kept his eyes trained on the passing scenery, trying to commit the local landmarks to his memory.

Chloe slammed on the brakes at a red light. Without his seat belt on, Derek flew forward, his knees hitting the edge of the console. "I'm twenty four!"

Grumbling about how she didn't look it, Derek grabbed the seat belt and clicked it on. The light switched to green, and the van pulled forward again. "Besides, I was just making conversation. I'm not interested in guys who can't tell a real bus stop from a fake one."

He bit down on his tongue, resisting the urge to throw in her face the facts that he had a stellar degree and graduated at the top of his class, with honors. The sooner she got to the restaurant, the sooner he'd never have to see her again. Except a small part of him didn't care so much about his dinner plans now as much as it cared about proving to her that he was not the imbecile she thought he must be.

"I'm Chloe Saunders, by the way," she grinned over at him. "You're a bit of an ass, but you deserve to know your savior's name. It's nice to meet you..."

"Derek Souza," he growled out, vowing he would not respond to her stupid comments, even if they made him bristle. Him, need a savior? Yeah, right. "I'll give you some money for gas."

"How generous. At least you did one thing nicely." Chloe pointed to a glass fixture on the side of the road where a couple of people were standing. "If you look over there, Derek, you'll see that's where smart people wait for the bus."

* * *

><p><span>Authoress's Notes:<span> Ugh, this would have been up much, much sooner, but I was not feeling that writing spirit this week. I had no motivation to work on this earlier in the week, so I waited until last minute. And then at last minute, I spent the entire day hanging out with my best friend, so it was about midnight when I started working on this. And it was awful. I stopped writing it and went to bed, then have spent all day working on it. I'm still not satisfied. I loved the idea of this, but my execution of it...it's not one of my best pieces of work.

I am, however, going to continue this storyline in the next chapter because I felt the story wasn't finished yet. So, next week's installment will be the continuation of this one-shot. And I'll probably do it more justice the second time around.

This one-shot was an AU, meaning Chloe and Derek are normal people, with no supernatural powers or anything. There'll definitely be more of those in future one-shots, as there's only so much I could write with them being the necromancer/werewolf combo.

Originally, I had a whole other idea for this, but then I read about this whole 'fake bus stop for the elderly' in Germany or something, and I was determined to write this. XD

Happy Friday everyone! Thanks for reading/reviewing!


	7. Gotta Catch My Bus, I See My Friends

I Got This, You Got This

One-shot 7:

Gotta Catch My Bus, I See My Friends

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><p>Summary: "I should have gotten you flowers. My brother told me to get flowers, but I thought that was a stupid idea."<p>

* * *

><p>"Mr Newman got out again," Rachelle Rogers drummed her knuckles along the counter above Chloe's desk.<p>

The blond glanced up from the paper work she was filling out, letting out a low breath and slouching back in her chair. "Again? Rae, that's the second time this week. How does he keep getting out?"

To anyone else, it might sound as if they were talking about an animal, like a dog or cat, some pet that was habitually running away from home. However, the Mr. Newman in question was an eighty-year-old man whose mind was clouded with dementia. He frequently found his way out of Pine & Oaks Nursing Home, under the eye of watchful nurses like Chloe and Rae.

"Don't ask me. He's one sneaky old dude," Rae shrugged, reaching over the counter to grab the papers out of Chloe's hands. "It's your turn to find him."

"No way, I could have sworn I picked him up last time." Chloe reached for the papers.

"If you count last time as being last week, then yeah, you did it last time. But I count last time as two days ago, when I did it." Throwing the papers down on the desk, Rae motioned for Chloe to get out of her chair. "Come on, just go do it now before he gets too far away."

Chloe half expected her coworker to say something along the lines of 'he couldn't have gotten far', like they were in some movie where there was a race against the clock to find the perpetrator. She blamed it on the script she was writing, hiding under those papers Rae had been waving in her face. It was going to be her masterpiece, her brain fever baby that was going to make her a household name one day. One day, after she got out of this nursing gig and out of her aunt's house.

Thinking that made her stomach churn guiltily. Aunt Lauren had been good about renting out the extra room in her condo to her jobless niece. Chloe could be living there with no charge, but she hadn't wanted to feel like she was free-loading off her generous relative. Her aunt had even given her a place as a volunteer nurse at Pine & Oaks so Chloe wouldn't be sitting on the couch the entire day, looking for nonexistent jobs in the newspaper. The pay wasn't much because she was technically only a volunteer, but it was enough to cover her phone bill each month. Luckily, she worked her way through college, so student loans weren't much of a problem.

Still, she was twenty four and living with her aunt, a woman who expected Chloe to go to sleep before ten. Forget going out late with her friends, or bringing a guy home. Not that there was a guy in the picture, but Chloe was looking forward to the day where she could invite one inside without explaining him to Aunt Lauren's disapproving gaze.

"Mr. Newman couldn't have gotten too far." Rae was saying. Chloe tried not to giggle at her phrasing. "Check the bus stops near here. Or the bowling alleys. Maybe he'll turn up at one of those again."

"Fine, fine. Where are the keys?"

Rae dangled the van keys in front of her, and Chloe took them, standing up to grab her purse. Shuffling the papers together to straighten them, she slipped her script out of the pile when Rae wasn't watching and hid it in a folder on her desk. She hadn't told anyone yet about the work in progress because she knew as soon as she did, they'd want to read it. It was a secret, the plot not even set in stone. Chloe herself had no idea how the script would turn out, as it changed every time she put a pen to it. When she finally told someone about it, it would be because it was finished.

Cleaning off the desk, she shut down her computer and threw away the half-eaten chicken wrap that was her lunch. She'd been on her break when Rae approached her, and she wouldn't get another one until much later, after the patients were served their early dinner. As much as she liked working at the home, there were times when she felt it was sucking her life away. The sooner she finished her script, the better. A college friend of hers who worked in the movie industry said that as soon as she had a completed script, there would be a job open for her, but she couldn't be too certain that offer would stand for long.

A call came on the intercom for Rae, and she laughed, knowing that if Chloe had any more excuses up her sleeve to get out of finding Mr. Newman, they were all void now. Waving goodbye, Rae began walking down the hall. She turned around, walking backwards as she called, "Oh, and by the way, there's some scary guy loitering around the door, so be careful when you go outside."

Lovely. Just what Chloe wanted to hear. Hoisting her purse over her shoulder, she walked out from behind the counter, jiggling the keys in her hand as she walked down the hallway to the front door. From there, she could just barely see a large, shadowy shape just beyond the entrance. It was a man, as Rae had pointed out, rocking back on his heels with his hands in his pockets. His head was pointed up, looking at the sky, or probably, the giant sign above the building with the nursing home logo.

Chloe opened the door, the afternoon air clashing with the cool air conditioning. The man turned towards the door, and upon meeting his green eyes, Chloe groaned.

Derek Souza. Last week, she'd laughed at him for sitting at one of the fake bus stops the nursing homes in the area had set up. At first, Chloe had thought he had been sitting there with Mr. Newman because he was a good samaritan, but the moment he opened his mouth, she knew her first impression of him had been wrong. He was rude, impatient, and nearly accused her of flirting with him when that had been the last thing on her mind concerning him.

Well, okay, she had thought that maybe she wouldn't mind flirting with him at first. Derek was tall, bulky like a football player, with a shock of flattering dark hair that seemed to have recently been cut. Chloe had never been attracted to his type before, but after spending months with the only male interaction being with men who wore dentures, Derek had looked pretty good. Until he did that thing, where he opened his mouth and spoke words.

She took enjoyment that in the scene she was working on in her screenplay, a character closely matching Derek's description had just been run over by a bus. Never had she met a person who set her on edge like he had. Instead of thanking her for informing him about the fake bus stops, he'd insinuated that she was pulling a prank on him, when in reality, she'd been thinking it was cute how lost he seemed when he realized he would miss the bus. And then he'd only given her five dollars for gas after she had been kind enough to offer him a ride to hat fancy upscale restaurant that was entirely out of her way. Only five dollars! With the gas prices nowadays, it was a wonder she wasn't telling him off right then and there. She had a mind to, but knew that once she'd open her lips, the only thing to erupt from them would be a stuttering frenzy of outrage.

"Hey."

Startled by his sudden greeting, Chloe pointed back at the doors. "Y-you're scaring people inside. You s-sh-shouldn't be standing out here. They might call the cops."

And there she was helping him again! It would serve him right to be arrested for loitering, but no, Chloe Saunders is a nice girl who helps people. Even if they did nothing to deserve being helped.

"I was waiting for you," he leaned against a blue car. A rental, she noted. Probably was tired of having to wait at fake bus stops. "Look, Chloe—"

"I have to go," she marched towards the area of the parking lot where they kept the Pine & Oaks vans parked.

He followed her. "I know I was an ass last week. You don't have to avoid me. I just wanted to say—"

Coming to a pause at the van, Chloe unlocked the door and opened it. "How do you know where I work?"

Derek's speech stopped and he gave her an expression that told her she was being ridiculous as he tapped the vehicle's door. The Pine & Oaks logo stared back at her, and heat gathered in her cheeks. Covering her embarrassment, she said, "It's weird you remember that."

"I'm a smart boy. Despite what some people may think." He wasn't even looking at her as he said this, but she knew 'some people' was meant to be her. "Now, I was saying, I came here to talk to you."

"And I said, I have to go." She threw her purse on the floor next to the driver's seat.

"It won't take long," his impatience was starting to show, if the grinding of his teeth and slight growl of his words was any indication.

Deciding to throw him a bone, Chloe shut the door and crossed her arms. "Only a couple of minutes. I really have something important to do."

"Like I did last week. You see, I had this dinner for work. It's a new job, why I moved here actually, so it was crucial I go to the stupid dinner." Derek ran a hand through his short hair, eyes narrowing when he saw Chloe wasn't budging an inch at his explanation. "And you're right, I wasn't treating you that great." He stopped to glare at her as she snorted. "I was just worried I'd miss the dinner, and lose my job."

"Not something you want to happen in this economy." Chloe muttered, unable to help feel a little sympathy for him. He nodded slowly, face questioning so Chloe admitted, "I'm looking for a job myself."

"You have a job."

"A better job. Something that actually goes with my college degree."

The corner of his mouth tilted in the start of a grin. "I have that same problem."

Chloe shook her head, realizing they were standing there just smiling at each other. "Is that all? I still have to leave soon."

"No. It's just...all week, I've been thinking. About you. And how I acted."

"How you acted? You mean, how rude you were?"

"Yes."

"And disrespectful?"

"_Yes_."

"Bad-mannered?"

"You can stop now. I know how I was acting," Derek pinched the bridge of his nose, deliberately breathing in and out in an attempt to tame the irritation Chloe suspected she was causing. It was kind of fun, purposefully goading him. "Look, do you want to go out to dinner?"

"With you?"

"No, with a goat. I'm trying to apologize here."

"By asking me out? Do you think I need a pity date or something?" Oh, god, what if he does? What if he knows she hasn't been on a date in at least a year and feels sorry for her? She wondered if she looked desperate. Maybe it was the scrubs. They just screamed dateless.

"No, I—just wanted to—I don't think...hell, this is coming out all wrong." Clapping his hands together, Derek pointed them at Chloe. "I know I was acting stupid last week by yelling at you. So, I wanted to see if I could take you out to say that I'm sorry. I suck at apologies, so that's the best you're going to get out of me."

"I can tell." Chloe didn't respond to his invitation, further prolonging his suffering. And he was suffering, she could tell. He thought with one dinner date, he could pay for his rudeness and that would be that, they'd let bygones be bygones. He had to know she wasn't going to let him go with just one dinner, so she stood quietly, just staring at him as she pretended to think over his offer in her mind.

Finally, he shoved his hands back in his pockets and kicked the van's front tire. "Shit, I should have gotten you flowers. My brother told me to get flowers, but I thought that was a stupid idea."

"Flowers definitely might have helped your case." Chloe turned and opened the van door again, climbing in the front seat before slamming it shut. She rolled down the window. "If you really want me to forgive you, you'll get in the van."

He eyed the passenger seat wearily. "Why?"

"We're going to visit some bus stops. Your friend Mr. Newman is missing again."

There was a tense moment of silence, where they both stared each other down, wondering how serious the other was. The moment was broken when Derek walked around the other side of the van and got in next to Chloe. Smiling to herself, Chloe put the key in the ignition to start the van. "I don't get off until ten, but I have an hour break at six for dinner."

"So?"

"So...pick up some food from that fancy restaurant of yours and meet me at the front desk." She couldn't look him in the eye as she said it, but she felt a thrill that she could be so bold. It was the first time she'd ever actually asked someone out. Well, demanded it, really.

"Oh...yeah. Okay."

"And Derek?"

"What?"

She leaned over, strapping his seat belt, unable to believe he'd forgotten she'd doggedly stepped on the brakes in an effort to get him to wear it last week. "Bring some flowers."

* * *

><p><span>Authoress's Notes:<span> Okay, this chapter I liked a lot more than last week's. Definitely feeling that writing pow-ah this week.

Hope everyone's Friday is ah-may-zahhh!

Thanks for reading/reviewing!


	8. Kickin' in the Front Seat

I Got This, You Got This

One-shot 8:

"Kickin' in the Front Seat"

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><p>Summary: "Chloe, you kicked me in a place that would hurt any man, even a werewolf one. This definitely kills the mood."<p>

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><p>The first words out of her mouth after he parks the car are, "This is the part in a scary movie where we let our guards down and the murderer finds us."<p>

Derek Souza, in the middle of simultaneously unbuckling his seat belt and throwing the keys on the dashboard, gives his girlfriend a quirked smile. Chloe, already free from the seat restraint, leans over the armrest between the driver and passenger seat and pokes his arm.

"You laugh now, Derek. But that's when the murderer sneaks up on you and drags you from the car, then cuts open your stomach and hangs you with your own intestines."

"You realize you say the exact same thing whenever we come here?" His hand gripping the wheel, he points at the trees beyond the rain spattering against the windshield. The path in front of the vehicle, sectioned off with a rusty chain and a sign that reads 'No Trespassing', must have once led to some hidden place in the woods, but now is covered with overgrown weeds and twisting vines. Now it forms a grassy alcove off the main road, the perfect fit for the compact car they were driving. And a better location for a romantic rendezvous than the parking lot down the street, where police cars roam and catch unsuspecting horny teens, returning them home and to their scandalized parents.

Chloe tugs off her jacket, revealing the shimmery, sequined green tank top she is borrowing from Tori—a selection, the witch had pointed out, which was a bit over-the-top for just an evening out to the movies. "Do not." Derek snorts in disbelief, and she shakes her head, ignoring him. "Just lock the doors, all right?"

He does as he's told, pressing the button on his door to lock all four doors and turning to face her. "Like a locked door is going to stop a psycho murderer. But that's fine. It's not like I have super strength or anything like that."

"Doesn't matter. Your guard's down."

"You bet it is," he reaches forward, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her towards him. Their lips meet as lightning flashes outside before sending the car into darkness. She rests one hand on his cheek, face rough in the beginnings of a five o'clock shadow. The other hand snakes into his hair, her fingers gentle but prodding his mouth to move closer to hers.

Derek's hands slip from her shoulder blades, drifting in opposite directions up and down her back. Sometimes his fingers are skating over her, making feather-light contact with her body, and other times, they are urgent, clutching and digging in. The pressure is dull, pleasant-feeling and doesn't hurt, but she's sure there'll be bruises tomorrow morning. She lifts her head, taking in a breath to tell him that they should watch out, that last time, her aunt spotted one and got suspicious. But he's already moving down her jaw, scattering open-mouthed kisses along her throat. Any thought of her aunt, of cooling down disappears because it is ten degrees warmer in the car, and she thinks her mind is melting.

One of her hands is wandering under his shirt collar, stroking the stretch of skin between his neck and shoulder. Fingers splayed, her pinky traces his collarbone and her thumb settles on his pulse. It is pulsing quickly, but not in the racing way that signals a Change to occur. And she is glad, so glad, this won't turn out to be like other nights, where he gets too excited and starts sprouting paws and a tail right there in the front seat. As if thanking him for that alone, she pulls back and dips down to capture his mouth again.

He appreciates the gesture, using the muscles of his forearm to bring her closer still, gathering a fistful of sequined fabric. Under that ridiculous girly shirt, he can feel she's not wearing a bra, and it takes a gigantic amount of willpower not to rush. So, he distracts himself with her kiss, losing himself in the way her lower lip brushes against his and her tongue slides oh-so-slowly on it. A chuckle almost escapes him as he remembers his earlier sarcasm, and he thinks a murderer could very well sneak up on them in the moment, with him being none the wiser. Everything, every supernatural sense of his, is tuning out from the rest of the world and focusing on her. The taste of her, the feel of her under his hands, the faint smell of some flowery perfume, hearing her muffled sighs, wrenching himself away from her to see her flushed face in another strike of lightning.

Raising to her knees on the seat, Chloe grips his shirt to bring him back, kiss him again. Her leg falls off, the sudden slip causing her to drop and slam her elbow on the armrest. Tightly holding onto his shirt has brought Derek down as well, and his chin comes down on her head.

"Ow!" Her hand flies to her head, soothing the pain. Exhaling through swollen red lips, she hits the armrest. "This isn't working."

He nods, "I keep hitting the cup holder."

"Move over," she waves him closer to the door, swinging a leg over the armrest. In such close quarters, it takes her a couple of minutes to settle herself on his lap. One foot gets stuck in the steering wheel, and since it doesn't feel uncomfortable, she lets it stay there. Her right hand slips on the foggy glass of the window. She steadies herself by grabbing the back of the seat, trapping his head between her arms as he shifts under her, hands on her hips and thumbs hooking onto her belt-loops. Resting their foreheads together, their eyes level, smiles are spreading across their faces.

Derek is the first to break the gaze, drawing her forward so his mouth can nuzzle a journey down her neck. At the base of her throat, he licks the hollow there before traveling further south. He alternates between kisses and tiny nips at her skin, moving to place his lips above her heart, arms circling around her back so that his hands can drag the straps of her top off her shoulders...

_Honk! Honk!_

Both jump, frantically pushing and prodding until Chloe's foot finally is removed from the horn. Derek swears, releasing an irritated huff. "Whose bright idea was it to get such a small car, anyway?"

Chloe glances at the ceiling, chest deflating in annoyance. "Tori picked it out. I tried to tell her that we'd all be sharing it, so we needed one that would be big enough, but..."

"Let me guess: She didn't listen. Big surprise there."

Over his head, Chloe can see the back seat, seemingly large and spacious. "Here, help me over." She gets off him, leaning over the middle of the two seats. "There's more room back here."

He watches as she struggles over the seats, arms flailing as she tries to latch onto something back there that will give her leverage. "You know, the last time I checked, this car had four doors. It's probably easier to walk out one door and enter another than it is climbing over the seats."

"It's raining outside!" Practically on cue, thunder rumbles above their heads. Her legs begin to kick out, trying to propel her further into the back seat.

"So?"

"So, I'm wearing Tori's shirt."

"Oh no, the rain will make it dissolve." Not that he'd mind the sight. As if to punish him for the thought, an errant kick is sent his way, forcing him back to dodge it.

Her voice is a little strained as she alters the placement of her hips against the polyester seat. As it is, she slips further down between the seats and a growl escapes her. "It'll mess it up, and Tori'll be pissed."

"Don't you think this date involves too much conversation about Tori? Kills the mood a bit."

"Derek!"

"Okay, okay, I'll lay off T—"

"No, Derek, help me out here. I'm stuck!" Her legs kick out again, nearly colliding with his stomach.

Observing and solving her problem only takes a second, but a full minute lets him enjoy the view. Still, when another random kick flies at his head, he works his hand under her knee and uses that to relieve some of the weight on it. He helps her get one leg ready to move into the back seat, keeping one palm steady on the back of the other thigh. Although he attempts to get her to stop kicking, her legs still jerk as he pushes her over the seat. With one last shove, Chloe bangs her head on the roof and kicks out her legs again, a foot landing on something firm and warm.

She rolls into the back seat, as Derek sucks in a rapid hiss. Breathing hard, she sets her head on the cold window, the door handle crushing on her spine. But she lets out a wispy laugh of triumph and glances at the front seat. Over the driver's headrest, she can see the top of Derek's head, dark hair sticking up from where her fingers had run through it.

"You ready to come back here?" she asks as she adjusts her position into a more comfortable sitting one.

"Nah. I'm good."

"You'll be even better if you come back here," she teases him as she throws her shoes onto the floor.

"Let's just say we call it a night."

She gives a small laugh, like he's joking. It doesn't take a moment for her to figure out he isn't joking. He gives another one of those hisses, and she realizes he is in pain. "Are you all right?"

"Just fine."

"I kicked you, didn't I?" He makes a noise of agreement, but doesn't explain further. "Derek, I hardly think one kick is going to ruin the mood. I bet I didn't even hurt you." He's most likely just faking it, make her think she may be stronger than she is. But she knows a little boot to the stomach isn't that much cause for alarm and that he can take much worse than that.

"Chloe," he says with a groan. "you kicked me in a place that would hurt any man, even a werewolf one. This definitely kills the mood."

Oh.

_Oh_.

Well. That explains that.

She slumps against the door, biting her bottom lip and wincing, too afraid to look over the seat between them. "So...the mood's all gone?"

"Yep. All gone."

Derek drops his head on the steering wheel, careful of the horn, face contorted in suffering. Behind him, Chloe is not saying anything, and he can't help but feel guilty and disappointed at the same time. He hears her shuffling around in the back seat, no doubt getting ready to climb back over the seats so he could drive them home. He lifts one side of his face so he can look up, but she is sitting too low for him to see her in the rear view mirror. The shuffling stops, but she does nothing for a couple more minutes, and he wonders if she is mad at him.

But then something lands on his head. He reaches up to take it off, and his hand pulls back gripping green, shiny and sequined material. The kind that previously was on—

"How's the mood now?"

He forgets what he said about using the doors, and in his rush to climb over the seats, he gets stuck himself.

* * *

><p><span>Authoress's Notes:<span> Oh yeah. I went there. XD I like this chapter, as it is notable for my first attempt at two things: shameless Chlerek sauciness and writing in the present tense. Both were a bi-yotch. But still pretty fun. Mostly it was just the present tense that messed me up. I kept trying to write everything in past tense, which made me want to rip out my hair. I was determined to try something new and challenge myself.

Hope everyone has a steamy Friday! I say this because yes, I will go outside and possibly hose down my driveway to watch it steam. I do that because it's the only form of entertainment I have. Until I go back to school. Which happens to be, oh, tomorrow. We so excited here.

Tune in next week to see what happens...in the back seat! Ominous musical noises.


	9. Sittin' in the Back Seat

I Got This, You Got This

One-shot 9:

"Sittin' in the Back Seat"

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><p>Summary: "His grip on her foot tightened just a bit, and Chloe was sure that if Aunt Lauren could see it, it would fall somewhere under the category of inappropriate touching."<p>

* * *

><p>Welcome to Sexual Eduction 101, Chloe Saunders crushed her forehead against the window glass. Lesson Number One: The Art of Inappropriate Touching, taught to you today by Aunt Lauren, graduate from New York state's finest med school with a masters in Loving and Caring for Favorite Niece and a PhD in Humiliating Said Niece. You might want to skip the class, perhaps even try to drop it, but face it—that's not happening. Aunt Lauren keeps perfect attendance records and won't let you miss anything that could possibly be on the final exam. No, the only thing between freedom and torture for you is if you ditch the boy sitting beside you in the back seat.<p>

And well, _that's_ not happening either, Chloe narrowed her eyes at her aunt in the driver's seat. Of course, the woman wouldn't notice, her hands on the wheel in perfect ten-and-two position and eyes concentrated on the road. But once in awhile, those focused eyes would switch to the rearview mirror. Except the object Aunt Lauren was most interested in staring down was the fourteen-year-old boy sitting behind her. Maybe her aunt didn't think she would see those cautious, warning glances, but Chloe did.

The seventh grader didn't think there was such a big cause concern. Lauren Fellows didn't know Derek Souza enough to know that the moment he was alone with Chloe, he'd "act on those hormones every young, growing boy must deal with". Yes, in the future, Chloe was certain he'd have such...feelings—she couldn't bring herself to call them 'urges' like her aunt because she was only thirteen and hadn't even had her first kiss yet, for chrissakes—but for now, Derek was a complete gentleman. All right, maybe not completely a gentleman, though he was trying to be as polite as was possible for him during Lauren's interrogation.

"You're in the..eighth grade, is that correct?"

"Yes, ma'am." The answer came from tight lips, the boy's faced turned towards the window. He was resolutely attempting not to look Lauren in the eyes, lest he irk her even more. His tone was already biting, trying to reply courteously but sounding more insulting. And Aunt Lauren did not like that one bit, Chloe could tell by the vein ticking in her aunt's neck.

"So, I suspect that you're near an age where you like to try new things..." Chloe suppressed a groan, pressing a hand over her eyes. Next lesson: The Joys of Experimentation and Why You Should Not Do It.

She blamed the woman's clinic her aunt worked at. The administrator there had let Lauren conduct a play on Sex Ed at an inner city middle school. Unfortunately for Chloe, "To Do It or Not To Do It?: How Shakespeare's _Hamlet_ Shows That Sex Drives You Crazy" was a big hit with the students of the school. Now, her niece being in that particular age group, it was always 'sex this' and 'sex that' and 'Chloe are you having sex because I warned you the dangers of that!'.

Chloe had reassured her aunt. She'd given Lauren completely reasonable explanations on why she wasn't out doing the nasty. She was too young. Hadn't hit puberty. Couldn't drive. Never held hands with a boy. Had just upgraded from a training bra. The only time she'd ever seen a condom was when they were passed around in health class, and they hadn't even been able to keep one.

With all this in mind, her aunt had been pacified. For a time, Chloe wasn't bombarded with an inquisition whenever her aunt visited. Things had returned to the way they were before her aunt's fear of Chloe picking up a disease, or worse, a baby. Discussion topics didn't center around abstinence being key and the various forms of contraception. Chloe decided that even without those, she was just grateful that her aunt stopped giving her those pointed looks that just screamed the question '_Are you having sex?_'.

And then Chloe met Derek. Brooding, sarcastic Derek Souza, seated next to her in study hall and made her feel entirely air-headed when she tripped and dropped her books all over the place. Then glared at another student who laughed at her misfortune and bent down to help her pick up the fallen books. Chloe had been hesitant, at first, to get to know him, but soon enough, they were walking together in-between classes and joking like they'd known each other for years. And after discovering Derek was particularly good at science and math, they'd begun helping each other study. More likely, Derek was helping Chloe, which resulted in her first ever B minus in a math class, but still, they were cooperating.

It didn't take long for Chloe to start seeing Derek as more than just a friend. She just hadn't been sure he'd feel the same way. He was a year older, in a different grade, and after the end of the school year, would be moving up to the local high school. He even looked like a high school student already, and she had just started shopping in the junior section. Chloe had been sure if she told him she liked him, he wouldn't be completely rude about it, but the rejection still wouldn't be pretty.

So, she was surprised a week ago, meeting Derek at the public library one afternoon, when after rambling on about a newly released movie she wanted to see, he said they should do it. Not the Do It like Aunt Lauren was always ranting about, but do it as in, they should see the movie. Together. Chloe had agreed, thinking at the time that Simon and Tori, his siblings, would also tag along. It was a thought that had been backed up when they arranged a time and place.

Being under sixteen, neither had their licenses, and since the closest movie theater wasn't in walking distance, a parent would have to chauffer. Derek's father was the chosen driver. Until Derek called Chloe up a couple hours earlier and explained that his dad had been unexpectedly called into work. Rather than let the tickets Derek bought online go to waste, Chloe offered her aunt drive instead. Aunt Lauren, having the day off and visiting Chloe, had cheerfully accepted the position.

And that, Chloe determined, was where everything went downhill. Arriving at the boy's residence, they'd found Derek sitting on his front step, waiting for them. Alone. Getting out of the car to greet him, Chloe had glanced around the house and asked where Simon and Tori were and weren't they coming, too? Derek's frown told her that he was confused by her question, and it was then that it dawned on her: the only ones seeing the movie were Derek and her. No one else. Just the two of them.

Not having explained much about the outing to her aunt, the very first assumption Lauren had was that Chloe and Derek were going alone together to see a movie. Which automatically meant that behind her back, her niece was seeing a boy. An older, more-mature-in-appearance boy with a crude attitude. Not the type of nice, polite boy that Lauren would have rather seen her niece with. In Aunt Lauren's skewed overprotective perception, Derek was completely wrong for Chloe and would stop at nothing to get into her sweet, innocent Chloe's pants. And that was unacceptable.

Leading, of course, to the current moment where Chloe was trying not to repeatedly bang her forehead against the window as Aunt Lauren went over Lesson Three: Anything and Everything That is Bad about Having Sex. As if Chloe would ever have a chance with Derek after her aunt's tirade tonight. Say goodbye to studying at the local library. Goodbye to walking through the hallways side by side. Goodbye to glimpses across the study hall room. Goodbye to Derek Souza because her aunt was one shotgun away from scaring him off for good.

Her non-date was still staring out the window, curtly replying to Aunt Lauren's questions and making small 'hnn' sounds to show her he was paying attention. The only indication of his true annoyance at being in the car with Aunt Lauren was the bouncing up and down of his knee. Poor Derek. It was humiliating enough for Chloe, but she was used to her aunt's constant spiels. Without warning, Derek had been subjected to all of this torment, and he probably wasn't considering tonight as a date anyway. Tonight, to him, was most likely just an outing between two study-partners-turned-friends.

Making sure her aunt's gaze was on the road again, not on the boy, Chloe slid her foot over to tap Derek's ankle. Startled, his head swung over to look at her. Face pinched into an expression of utter regret, Chloe moved her lips to tell him, "_I'm sorry_."

He smiled back, shrugging as if it didn't really bother him, except she knew that it did. He was already regarded with suspicion by teachers at school, so it wasn't exactly fun for it to happen outside of classrooms. Nudging back at her foot, he mouthed back, "_Don't worry 'bout it._"

"_My aunt is...kinda intense_."

Derek peered over the headrest at Chloe's aunt and shook his head. "_I hadn't noticed_."

This time, Chloe jabbed at him with her foot. Derek dodged her attack, then returned with one of his own, playfully pushing back with both his feet. His sneakers were much larger than hers, capturing and holding down her foot in just a few short moves. Chloe held back a grin, trying to tug her foot away from him.

When Aunt Lauren glanced up at the rearview mirror again, they both turned to face out their respective windows. As soon as she wasn't watching, their eyes connected in a secret joke and both had to fight to control small bouts of laughter. Chloe, poking at the toe of Derek's shoe, said, "_I really didn't mean for her to get so riled up. And I di-didn't tell her it was a date. She came up with that on her own._"

It took a couple of tries, neither of them being masters at reading lips, but Derek finally got the gist of it. After he did, he managed another one of those it-really-doesn't-bug-me roll of his shoulders. "_Like I said, don't worry about it._"

"_But she thinks it's a date._"

"_So?_" She knew what he meant, that they shouldn't care much about what Aunt Lauren thinks because if she wasn't going to listen to reason, why even try? But she couldn't help but press the matter.

"_I know you don't want to be a date with me—_"

"_How do you know?_"

"_Know what?_"

"_Know that I don't want to be on a date with you?_"

"_Well..._" Chloe swallowed carefully, churning the words over slowly in her mind. "_...do you?_"

He wasn't looking at her anymore, his eyes centered on the floor where their shoes were pushing against each other. Easily, he slipped his foot behind hers, hooking his instep around her ankle and pulling until her foot was caught between both his. Chloe watched, cheeks heating as she reached her hand across the seat and tapped his arm.

As he finally met her eyes again, she asked, "_Derek..._is_ this a date?_"

She expected a reluctant answer, part of her believing that it wasn't possible. That he couldn't really be interested in her like she was in him. But nope, Derek looked her straight in the eye and said, "_If you want it to be._"

And then the ball was in her court. Before she could stop and reflect on what her reply would be, she was already nodding her head, gaze dipping because she couldn't quite meet those green eyes. A smile was spreading across her mouth and she kept nodding, probably looking silly but unable to stop herself. His grip on her foot tightened just a bit, and Chloe was sure that if Aunt Lauren could see it, it would fall somewhere under the category of inappropriate touching. And as if to defy her aunt even more, her hand crossed the journey over the seat and slipped into Derek's.

* * *

><p><span>Authoress's Notes<span>: Technically, it's still about 10 or 11 in California, so it's still Friday.

This would have been up earlier, and in fact, I planned for it to be finished much earlier. Even started writing it early, back on...Tuesday, I believe. And then time got away from me and it was like BLAM! Friday's here and your chapter isn't finished! Usually I finish these things up Thursday night, but last night I was swamped with translating Latin texts, which takes awhile, as I have forgotten nearly all the Latin I learned last year...

From now on, it might take a bit longer to get these chapters up quickly. I have returned for my second year of college, and even though I've only been back a week, things are looking to be pretty busy for me. Friday is the busiest day in my schedule, with me going from class to work back to class and then back to work. I legit got only about 2 and a half free hours today, and when I finally returned to my computer, I was too exhausted to actually get my brain to produce something really fantastic for you guys. So this chapter's a bit more blah than I wanted it to be.

So, next week's shall be better, as I will work on it throughout the week instead of waiting until Friday night/very early Saturday morning. I plan to write after my writing class because that's when I'm most pumped to write my very best, and I have a bunch of free time after it. So yayyyy!

Anyways, hope you all had a good (and not terribly busy/exhausting like mine) Friday!


	10. Gotta Make My Mind Up

I Got This, You got This

One-shot 10:

Gotta Make My Mind Up

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><p>Summary: "Sure, in the past she'd been worried about the consequences of her supernatural powers. Except now there was more at stake than just her own life."<p>

* * *

><p>"Congratulations are in order."<p>

Chloe didn't know whether to laugh or cry remembering the doctor's parting words. She hadn't known what to say half an hour before, when he had patted her shoulder, passed her the bottle, and gave her that hearty smile that she knew she should be returning. Instead, she had stood there, nodding along, pretty sure the color had drained from her face and her expression indicated she was in anything but a congratulatory mood. She had made it back to her care, hesitantly wondering if she should start it. Suddenly, it hit her how dangerous driving was, how in a split second, something could go wrong, and the car would spin and spin and she could die. Die before ever seeing Derek again, telling him.

Somehow, she had forced herself to put the vehicle in drive and return herself home, to the dining room table sticking halfway out of the kitchen into the living room of their cramped one-room apartment. Their building was old, but it had an elevator, one she saw through a new vision. Old, old elevator that chugged along and could easily break down without a moment's notice. Could plummet to the ground with her inside it. So, she took the stairs, noting too late that accidents happened in stairwells, too. A fall down the steps could be just as dangerous now as a fall in an elevator.

She tried to shake off that feeling, that no matter where she turned, any normal thing could jump out at her and she wasn't safe anymore. And just that thought, of things jumping out, made it dawn on her that ghosts did that. Sure, in the past she'd been worried about the consequences of her supernatural powers, never quite forgetting what it drove her uncle Ben to do. Except now there was more at stake than just her own life.

The evidence of that was gathered before her on the table. Five boxes, all torn open in a haste and their contents emptied almost as quickly, those sticks she locked herself in the bathroom with and held in her hands for minutes, hours before she finally drew her gaze to their small pink plus signs. The bottle of vitamins the doctor had given her earlier, the one he'd assured her was backed by doctors everywhere and contains all the necessary minerals. The list of other vitamins he'd given her, in case these didn't suit her, along with the results of that day's blood test. A stack of pamphlets detailing the tasks to be completed over the next nine months, spouting words like "family" and "planned versus unplanned" and "names to think about". Poking out from the papers, the corner of a check-up appointment notice, reminding her that the first ultrasound was to be next week.

They would have let her have one today, but she'd refused, given her excuses that sounded legitimate. When in reality, the idea was trying to form in her brain. Trying to sink in, settle and soak into the ocean in her head, the one that caused the roaring static in her ears and water to pool in her eyes. Which only served to remind her, the evidence wasn't just the tangible objects she'd set out in front of her. There were things inside, changing around, making her do and say what she wouldn't under usual circumstances.

Chloe reached over, struggled with the bottle for a moment before getting the cap off and shaking out a couple vitamins into her palm. Should she take one now? It hadn't been an hour since she'd left the clinic, but the woman could barely recall what the doctor had told her. One by one, she returned the pills into the bottle, until the last, which she pinched between her fingers and stared at.

Eight weeks. Two months now, and for the life of her, she didn't know why she hadn't sought medical attention sooner. Last week, when she began fearing her suspicions were correct. Or the week before, when those suspicions first started forming. The month previous, when she'd wondered why a certain biological function hadn't arrived. The two months ago when she should have been going to the doctor to get a refill of another pill, one that would have prevented this.

Looking at that pill, clutched so tightly the tips of her fingers were turning white, she wondered how it would help. Would it stop the cravings, the constant wanting of food that had her eating more than she'd ever eaten and Derek teasing they'd been together so long, she was just about as much werewolf as him? What about the fatigue that had her collapsing on the couch every night before seven? Her frequent rushing to the bathroom because either nature called once again or she was sick of all that food she'd consumed?

Maybe one of those pamphlets would explain it all to her, but as Chloe glanced down at the table, her gaze caught the check-up notice again. A nurse at the clinic's counter had scribbled a message at the bottom before handing it over with a wink. The writing was miniscule, slanted, but she was able to make out that the nurse was blessing her "soon-to-be little angel". And it made her confused once more about what to feel, how to respond.

Any other woman, any other normal woman in a happy, loving relationship would have been overjoyed. Out would come the cell phone, dialing up every contact and squealing over the news. Followed by that, the new clothes, new supplies, new decorations. Chloe wasn't sure she wanted any of that, or if she could even bring herself to pick up the phone. She'd been so afraid of discovering the truth, she'd relied on a regular, non-supernatural doctor. Asking her aunt for such a favor was out of the question because then Lauren Fellows would throw a fit, and everyone would know. Everyone would know.

Derek had to know.

Did he already? It hadn't taken her too long to figure it out, and Derek was always observant when it came to her. Obviously, he knew something was up, or he wouldn't pause at times, narrowing his eyes as he watched her. Attempting to uncover what was wrong, working through his genius head all the new differences, but not quite placing a finger on what was bothering him about her. Even if he found out the reason, he wasn't about to speak it until she brought it up first.

Or maybe she was giving him too much credit. Give him an equation, a formula, some numbers and an equal sign, and that he could determine in a matter of seconds. Something of this magnitude, of this social caliber...well, it usually never registered with Derek. He may be wondering why the bathroom stunk like vomit some mornings, or why she threw a fit when the grocery store ran out of milk, but in the end, he probably concluded it was a twenty-four hour bug and stress after a long day of work.

Either way, she had to tell him. See his reaction. What would it be? She tried to imagine, but even that was too much for her to bear at the moment. So, she turned back to the notice about the check-up appointment for next week. The doctor told her he wanted to give her an ultrasound early because this was the first time this had happened to her. Wanted to make sure everything went easy for her. No complications.

The vitamin was returned to the bottle, and she shook it up, watching the dark pink pills jump around. Would it be as big as one of those pills? How much did it grow in just two months? What would they see in an ultrasound? How about in the months to come, when it would grow bigger and bigger, take on a human shape? Would it even look human? Or would it have fur and a tail and fangs? Would it come out screaming because a ghost was in the hospital room?

It wasn't going to be the little angel the nurse thought it would be.

Did she even want to bring something like that into the world? Long ago, her mother had faced the very same question, and Chloe was reluctant to admit that if someone came up to her with a way to get rid of those awful supernatural side effects, she was probably in the state of mind where she'd agree. Without question. Even knowing about her own teenage years, all that running and escaping, the abnormality of her powers. Her hand itched to pick up the phone and call her aunt, only stopping because she was still frightened her aunt would become upset and spill the beans.

But the doctor had mentioned complications. Complications that could stop this from progressing. Maybe it would be too much, a mixture of werewolf and necromancer. Too much for one tiny being to manage all on its own, and that would bring about its end. If that happened, she wouldn't even have to tell Derek. It would be her own secret, a detail about herself only she knew, despite that she'd shared all of her secrets with her boyfriend of nearly ten years. Yet, if she was hoping for that to occur, then why would she be so worried about getting in car crashes and falling down the stairs?

There were other ways, too. The doctor hadn't mentioned it, and neither had the nurse, but among those pamphlets somewhere was hidden a flier that advertised a solution to something unwanted. She pulled that flier out of the stack. Money wasn't a problem; she'd been working for awhile and had quite a bit saved up. All the same, just giving a cursory glance at that 'a' word had her shuddering and placing the flier at the bottom of the stack, feeling ashamed she was thinking any of this at all.

Chloe had to tell him. Tell Derek. They weren't kids anymore, hadn't been for a long time, and this wasn't one of those situations where she could go about it all by herself. It involved both of them, it was theirs, together. Not so much a problem, but a dilemma that they must work through. Starting with talking to him. Explaining it to him. Telling him. Soon. Probably.

She didn't know what to do. Sitting at the table, she'd been staring at the pills, at the boxes and test results, at the pamphlets, and she still hadn't come to a decision. But a key was unlocking the door. Derek was home, and she swept all the evidence into her purse, knowing he wouldn't think to look in there. When he fully opened the door, he'd find her sitting at the table, reading the newspaper that had been left on the chair next to hers, seemingly normal. Later, she'd return to the contents of her purse, and maybe, just maybe, she'd figure everything out.

* * *

><p><span>Authoress's Notes: <span> Happy Friday! Here's another glorious chapter, which I realized, like the last couples, deals with more mature topics. They all kind of came right after each other, but I swear I didn't plan it. (It almost seems like a public service announcement: Have sex. But if you do, there will be consequences! Shake my finger at you! XD ) Anyways, that should be enough of of that for awhile.

I ignored my Latin homework to work on this. I'm so dedicated. But really, I was just in a mood to write. Although I've been working more on my original fiction than fanfiction...

Next week, we finally get to decide on which seat to take. Oh, the wonders!

Enjoy your Friday! I have to go to bed now so I can wake up all refreshed and ready for this fantastic day. That may or may not have been sarcastic. I'm a bit too tired to tell...


	11. Which Seat Can I Take?

I Got This, You Got This

One-shot 11:

"Which Seat Can I Take?"

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><p>Summary: "Expose you, I will, Derek. It's what any good, caring brother would do."<p>

* * *

><p>You may think you're capable of hiding your feelings, Derek, but a brother knows these things. Not only a brother, but also a friend. Someone who has grown up with you, seen your every move, figured out your every emotion. Someone like that is able to dig deep inside your mind, find what you are feeling, point at it and expose it to the world.<p>

And expose you, I will, Derek. It's what any good, caring brother would do.

Watching you twitch in your chair, hand tapping your empty cup repeatedly against the table top, makes it hard for me to stop the grin from appearing on my face. But it shows anyway, and now you're glaring at me like I've gone insane. Which I haven't. You have. I can see it in your impatience.

It's bothering you. You want to turn around in your seat and stare at her, but that'd be too obvious. You reached our table first, had the pick of which chair to sit your ass in, and you go and choose the one facing the front door, not the counter. That's your own doing, your own fault. Trying to make it seem like you don't give a damn about the barista smiling at customers as she makes their coffee and tells them that'll be four-seventy-nine.

I admit, bro, at first it kind of ticked me off when you called me out to breakfast this morning. My work deadline at the paper is approaching and only a half-finished comic strip sits on my drawing table, waiting for my artistic expertise to polish it up. But no, you call me up, say you have something important to discuss, and coffee is a must.

Then we get to the little shop an equal distance between our respective city apartments, and all my anger fades. One glance at your face when that barista looked up, saw you and grinned as she asked, "One decaf, three bacon, egg, and cheese bagels?"

You nodded, not saying anything, but I sensed a familiarity between you two and this commonplace morning ritual. From the way you silently came up to the counter, rapped a knuckle on the Formica surface to how she jumped at the sound, startled, but settled quickly as her eyes met yours. That smile stretching across her mouth before confirming your order. Your order she already knows by heart.

Just how often do you visit this shop, Derek?

Not that I blame you. She's cute, if perhaps a bit looking on the younger side. Fresh out of college, maybe? Although that slight maturity may be an image created by the red streaks running through her cropped blonde hair. If you weren't so obviously trying your hardest not to turn around in your seat, sneak a peek over your shoulder for just one small glimpse of her, I probably would have flirted with her myself.

Still, I can see why you'd frequent this hole-in-the-wall shop. It's a bit smaller than the Starbucks I go to late at night when I'm frustrated and unable to crank out something for work, and the coffee isn't up to my usual standards. But it's a place I can see you in, preferring less people and eating whatever, even if the taste isn't the best. And it's got that barista. You really like her. I can tell.

Which is why I understand why we're here, on a weekend. No work, no reason to stop by in the morning for your one decaf, three bacon, egg, and cheese bagels. So, you invent a reason. Going to a coffee shop with your laptop and pretending to be working on some important project, that's not something you'd do. But I'll definitely suggest you try that next time, instead of phoning me and pretending we have to talk on some important subject that I'm pretty sure is all bull, anyway.

Then, you must have realized your mistake, that I'd see your interaction with this chick. So you chose the chair facing away from her. Smart of you, except now the barista keeps looking over at us, puzzled because I'm guessing you two normally exchange glances across the room. And you can't do that today because you let me take your place. Smooth move.

Derek, Derek, Derek. This won't do at all. You would think, growing up with me and having your genius brain, you'd pick up on the techniques of flirting just as easily as you learned calculus in high school. I should have seen this, though, that you were too wrapped up in your books, and that you were too...lacking in the picking up girls department. Fortunately, I am an artist, and that area happens to be one of my best subjects.

After this, it's all up to you, Derek, but I'll help—just this once. So, don't bite my head off when you get up to go to the bathroom, and I head on up to the counter for a refill. And when I stand there waiting for her—Chloe, her name tag reads—to get my order, doodling on a napkin, she sees and we get started talking, don't get mad when we start talking about you and her skin flushes in embarrassment when I tell her you kind of dig her. Don't tell me it's none of my business, especially because she's writing down her number on the napkin I was drawing on so I can hand it to you later, once you're done chewing me out.

In fact, Derek, you should probably thank me, seeing as when you get back from your bathroom break, I'll have switched seats, and you can have the one facing the counter.

* * *

><p><span>Authoress's Notes:<span> I loved writing this one. Other than the fact I'm taking a refreshing break from Chloe/Derek and choosing Simon as narrator instead (thanks to **everyoneisMISunderstood** for the idea!), it's the first time I've tried this whole second-person-first-person type of perspective. I got the idea from a short story I read in a class last year, so I thought I'd try my hand at it. I still need to work out some kinks with it, as well as get down Simon's character a bit more, but I enjoyed writing this. I actually finished it early, rather than wait until last minute and crank it out. It also helps it was much shorter this time around, cuz in my writing class we're dealing with flash fiction (very, _very_ short stories, like less than 1,000 words which I'm not used to so much), so that influenced this chapter.

Now, let's see, let's see...next week..._IT'S FRIDAY, FRIDAY_!

It's Friday today, and I have class/work/ignoring my homework in favor of What Not to Wear reruns, so it's time for a good night's sleep. Thanks to all who read/reviewed! Hope you enjoyed!

Also: forgot to mention, I will _**not**_ be writing a follow-up to last week's one-shot. As of right now. Maybe in the future, but I'm feeling pretty good about leaving it how it is. Keeps you all guessing. :D But no, really, I liked how that one left off, so it felt completely done to me. Maybe not to those of you who want a continuation, but it does to me, so I won't be adding more to that.


	12. ScatterBrained Authoress's Note

Hey guys!

It's me. I'm alive. Not dead. Or a ghost (although that would be pretty cool).

And anyways, I'm here to deliver some unfortunate news. Oh, jeez, that sounds a bit dire. Rest assured I'm not going on hiatus or anything, I just can't give you a chapter this week. Yes, I also did not give you a chapter last week. I was busy spending my money on Amazon on cheesy BBC historical dramas (North & South miniseries, _love_ it) and the latest Richelle Mead books (the end of her Georgina Kincaid series and the beginning of Bloodlines-I just about died of happiness and uber-fan-obsessing). So last week's excuse was that I was in the mindset for totally different fandoms last week, rather than the DP one my head always seems to be focused on.

This week's a bit trickier. The next one-shot in this collection is a bit longer than previous ones. I already have some of it typed up and it's about four pages right now, the normal length of any one chapter, and I've barely broken the surface of it. So, yayyy, this is gonna take more work on my part. More work that I don't have time for. At least not this week. Not only do I have an exam tomorrow I still have to study for on top of normal homework, but my family's going to be visiting me for Family Weekend here at my school. So I'll be spending my Friday in class, work, taking an exam, and finally spending quality time with the people who are obligated to put up with me, no matter what. And Jeff Dunham's performing at my college tomorrow night, no big deal, so I'll kinda be more excited about that than writing my fics.

Wish I could say I'd post it up on Saturday, which is what I was planning to do, but a friend of mine is having her twenty-first birthday party tomorrow night as well. So I plan to be feeling poorly Saturday and not in the mood for writing. But we'll see. I'm not making any promises about the chapter being up sometime _this_ weekend, as other than visiting relatives and gettin' mah drunk on, I have an essay to write and a presentation to whip up before the weekend's end. I also have to work. Oh my god, just thinking of all the things I have to do makes me want to beat myself in with my own day planner.

Rest assured, dear readers, next Friday, I will be back with a fluffy new chapter of Chlerek-i-ness so Chlerek-y, it'll make you think you yourself are a werewolf. Or a necromancer. I already think I'm a necromancer. My residence hall used to be an insane asylum and I woke up one morning hearing someone whispering. And it wasn't my roommate.

What the freak am I going on about? I have no idea. I need to stop. Did I mention I listened to the Glee version of Friday over and over and over again today? It was the only song I listened to all day, out of the 1,000+ songs on my ipod. I think Friday has finally driven me insane.

With that in mind, everyone have a not-as-crazy-as-mine Friday! And next week...I'll be back.

I love making Terminator references.

Love and ghosts,

Heather (Lily-Finn178)


	13. It's Friday, Friday!

I Got This, You Got This

One-shot 12:

"It's Friday, Friday!"

* * *

><p>Summary: "Simon's all ready to get down to business, and Derek would rather be unsuited for the rage of war."<p>

* * *

><p>It was one of those sweaty summer mornings, the kind where he just wanted to stay still in bed and let himself sleep until well past noon. When the air conditioner choked out a puff of cool air every once in awhile, and half the sheets were twisted and tangled around his legs. Lines of sweat gathered along his spine, only to settle into the mattress and keep him sticking there. Another one of those mornings where it was too hot to get up and too hot to stay down. The only consolation was that if he waited in bed long enough, night would fall again and the temperature might decide to cool itself, if it was feeling particularly giving that night. But that wasn't happening, not that day of all days.<p>

Because it was Friday.

More importantly, it was _the _Friday. The Friday that happens only once each summer and keeps everybody eagerly awaiting as they bounce on their toes, watching the days on the calendar pass by before it could finally be _that_ Friday. It was that Friday before the Monday when backpacks would be weighed down with books and pencils. The Friday before leaves started changing from green to sickly brown, and the temperature would finally give up its relentless heat wave to make way for a harsher chilliness. A Friday before sneakers replaced flip-flops and homework replaced long nights spent at the city park, hanging from the jungle gym and flying off swing sets (the beach was the spot for the older, more mature teens to spend their summer nights, and it'd be some time before he or anyone he knew could be granted entrance to it).

Strictly speaking, this was the last Friday of summer, and it was around this time that the kids on his block usually began feeling the imminent arrival of a new school year. By unspoken agreement, everyone knew this was the last day for that big, momentous summer occasion to occur. The last chance any of them had, really, before their tans faded and socks protected their feet from any more grass stains.

In celebration, the summer had to end with a bang. It had to end with the annual Soak-and-Splash-'Em-Hide-and-Catch-'Em game.

It couldn't have been going on for more than a couple of years, but it seemed so ingrained in their adolescent heads as tradition, that it felt like longer. No one could remember much about when it started, but he knew it must have been something his brother had thought up. Some game only Simon's daydreaming artist's mind could have concocted one boring summer day. A mix up of every playground recreation invented for a Friday when everyone's thoughts were brought down with every school bus roaming the streets in an effort to commit to memory its new routes. A brand new activity to take every neighborhood kid's notice off teachers and classes.

Soak-and-Splash-'Em-Hide-and-Catch-'Em seemed complicated, but it was a simple game. It was an evolution of sorts, a hybrid of childhood fun. Hide and go seek. Tag. Flag football. All of those and more, with one main commonality linking them together. Water balloons.

And though the refreshing urge of water balloons was calling to him, he didn't want to remove himself from his spot on his bed. In this hotness, the only thing he wanted was to stay put, stationary, because if he got up, he felt like he'd melt. Oh, he knew scientifically it was impossible to melt in only ninety-degree weather, but it seemed like it could happen. It just felt that hot.

Too bad his brother Simon, the genius behind the game, was intent on making his get out of bed and get ready for the day's event. He barged in the room, took one glance at Derek pretending to still be sleeping, and shook his head. Grabbing a clean shirt and pair of shorts from the dresser across the room, he flung the garments on top of the other boy. Something harder landed with the clothes, prompting Derek to squint his eyes open and wearily groan at the sight of the water gun lying by his leg, already filled with liquid.

"No," he rolled over, using a foot to knock the water gun off the bed.

"You have to," Simon told him. "Now get your ass up and get ready. I've already staked out a good territory at the park. It's got this tree and the leaves hide— Derek, don't you dare put that pillow over your head." He reached over and tugged the offending object out of Derek's grasp. Indeed, he had been trying to block his ears from Simon's rambling despite the smothering heat his head would have to endure under the pillow. In case his brother got any more ideas, Simon yanked off the thin sheet and tossed it in the corner of the room. "I need you on my team this year. Brady's officially brainwashed Peter and Rae. And you know how Tori is. Our numbers are dwindling already and the game hasn't even started."

Derek sat up, bringing his arms to rest on his knees and running a hand through his too-long hair. Rather than try to interrupt Simon, he patiently waited it out while his brother went through the list of opposing teams they had to defeat this year. Finally, the blond boy reached into a plastic bag he'd left by the door, pulling out a medium length of rope with green construction paper tails hanging off it. He handed it over to Derek. "I know how devastated you were last year when we got the purple team, but look! I made sure we got green this time. It even matches your eyes."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

Derek curled his fingers into a fist, threatening his brother, but Simon held out his hand. He picked up the water gun he'd put on the bed and held it out to Derek. "Make me with this."

Oh, jeez. Now Simon was getting all Yoda on him or something. Before he could roll his eyes to convey his annoyance, Simon stopped him again. "Come on, soldier." He pumped the gun, preparing it for imminent battle and then threw it back on Derek's lap. "This is _war_."

* * *

><p>War was a pretty extreme term for what Derek saw when he arrived at the park, but it seemed to fit the atmosphere. Groups of neighborhood kids crowded the grassy areas, reviewing their strategies and eying prime targets on the sly. Kids Derek hadn't seen since the end of school a few months ago were there, along as some unfamiliar faces belonging to the newbies on the block. Everyone was decked out with what they deemed proper fighting attire: bathing suits, tank tops, shorts, flip-flops, and flimsy metal colanders too big for their heads acting as make-shift helmets. Everywhere he turned his head, he saw kids setting up cardboard box bases, tying towels to slides and swing sets, arming themselves with water guns and pistols.<p>

And in multicolored buckets scattered about the park, there were water balloons. Hundreds of water balloons, saved up until the very end of summer just for this very game.

Derek met Simon in the middle of the park, where his brother was helping a girl figure out how to aim her water gun. She was giggling the whole time he showed her how to position her arm, but Simon acted like he hardly noticed. Except he did, if the tilt of his mouth was any indication, but for the most part, he was all business. Because this game was business. Serious business.

Beside him, their sister Tori was openly displaying her mockery of the girl, rolling her eyes at every giggle and hair toss. She leaned over to her best friend Liz and made a comment that had the girl with gun problems flushing in humiliation. Without another word, she took her gun and hurried away.

Simon spotted Derek approaching their group and nodded, waving his arms in the air to call all the other kids to huddle around. They all obeyed his command, tensing because the time was nearing the start of the game. When every last kid was gathered around, Derek took a place a bit behind his brother and listened as Simon began his speech.

"Hey, everyone! Glad to see the turn out this year!" Cheers erupted and Simon had to settle them all down again. "Now, everyone knows that in t-minus..." He turned to Liz, who checked the rhinestone watch on her wrist and mouthed a number to him. "..._fifteen minutes_, we'll begin our annual Soak-and-Splash-'Em-Hide-and-Catch-'Em!" Even more cheers.

"Now, I know most of you already know the rules, but tradition is that we have to repeat them for all our new guests. So here's what's up. Everybody gets a belt." Simon held up his own belt, an exact match to the one he'd given Derek earlier. Most of the other kids were wearing theirs already, in a rainbow of construction paper colors. "You'll see that they're a bunch of different colors. Team colors. Your team decides what color you get, and this way, you'll be able to see who is a teammate and who you should _soak immediately!_" Simon was really great at hyping up a crowd, but Derek wasn't so convinced. He'd rather be back in bed, out of the rays beating down on him from the sun.

"And with their belt, everybody gets a gun. Just one gun for the start of the game. Along the way, feel free to steal guns or take them from fallen adversaries. But you start off with just one. Yeah, that's right. Give one up." He gestured to a nine-year-old with two pistols, who sadly passed his extra gun to a nearby teammate without one. "Make sure your guns are filled already. There are posts around the park where you can refill if you need to, but once the going gets tough, it's gonna be hard to find time to get more water. That's why all refilling stations are neutral zones. You cannot soak someone who is refilling their water. Unless," Simon raised his pointer finger, a mischievous grin appearing. "they take too long. Take more than two minutes and that neutrality is _gone_. Speed is key, people. Speed is key."

"Okay, and with your belt and gun, you get one water balloon. So, a water gun in one hand and a water balloon in the other. When you're holding a gun, you can only have one water balloon. However, if you run out of water and don't want to refill your gun, you're allowed to take as many water balloons as you can. This is only after you've run out of water. Make sure every last drop is out of your gun before going for all the water balloons." He gestured to the buckets around the park. "Like the refilling stations, we also have places where you can get your water balloons. That's where you can get all your ammo."

"Now, let's see...Oh, yeah. You are allowed to set up forts for your team anywhere around the park. You are not allowed to go anywhere outside the park for the duration of the game. If you do, it's instant disqualification. Also, no switching teams in the middle of your team. Once you take off that belt, you're out. So, if you don't like your team, you better switch now before it starts." Once more, Simon showed off his belt. "This belt is your life. Protect it. Everyone should have four flags on their belt. Your have two goals in this game. One: soak your enemy's flags. And two: don't let your flags be soaked. If all of your flags get soaked and fall off, you're out. If someone tears off all your flags, you're out." As he strapped the belt to his waist, he eyed the group of them with a severe gaze. "Any questions?"

No one spoke, the anticipation too much to actually voice any words. By their calculations of how long it had taken Simon to talk, there were almost five more minutes until the start of the game. Why waste time asking questions when there was the chance that they could start the game a couple minutes early.

And then, a hand rose in the audience. Simon pointed at the person, everyone turning annoyed glares towards the girl approaching the front of the circle. She was small, wearing a simple blue t-shirt and shorts, just an average-looking preteen save for the bright strips of red running through her short blond hair. There was no belt or water gun on her, and she watched others around her curiously. Obviously, she was new at this. Derek let out a frustrated sigh, wiping sweat off the back of his neck as he listened to her ask, "H-h-how do I si-sign up?"

Hot, tired, and irritable, Derek opened his mouth before Simon. "Now where did we pass that sign-up sheet?"

Simon flicked him off, and the girl seemed to notice Derek sprawled out on the ground beside his brother. Turning to the girl, Simon asked, "New in town? Don't worry, there's no signing up. No applications or fees or what have you. You just gotta show up."

"Or get dragged out of bed." The girl shot another quick glance at Derek. He shrugged and looked away.

"Okay, so first, we need to get you on a team," Simon observed the bunch of kids around him, but it didn't appear there's be any takers. "Anyone have an extra belt?"

"We can—" But before Simon's nemesis Brady could get answer, Simon pointed to his sister.

"Tori! Thanks for volunteering."

"I didn't—"

"—want to let a newbie go to waste. Great thinking." Simon grabbed Tori's elbow, leading her off from the mass of gathered children. Derek tilted his head to the side so he was able to hear them. "Take this seriously, Tori. This is the last Friday of the summer, and I will _not_ lose it to Brady. He's got a lot of people on his team already, so he's not getting anymore. Even if she is a newbie."

"I don't even have an extra belt." She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back on one leg, eyebrows raising in challenge.

"Please, Tor. I know you have that extra one on you just in case you need to cheat. You did the exact same thing last year."

The siblings stared each other down. Finally, Liz stepped between them, tapping her watch, and Tori waved her hands in the air. "Fine, whatever. But don't expect me to get all buddy-buddy with her."

"You don't have to be friends. You just have to shoot people together." He took the belt Tori fished from a nearby plastic bag filled with water balloons and handed it to the new girl. "I don't suppose you have a water gun, either."

She shook her head. "Didn't know I'd need one. I just saw a giant group of people and decided to check it out."

"Lucky for you, I have an extra" He relinquished his own Super Soaker and winked. "A few extra, actually, so you better watch out for me. Now, you know how to use one of these bad boys, right? I can give a quick tutorial if you want."

The girl pumped up the nozzle a few times, held the water weapon to her eye level, aimed down and pushed a finger down on the trigger. A blast of cold water shot an outstretched leg. Derek's outstretched leg. Though the coolness was refreshing, the boy eyed the wet mark on his shorts and raised his glare at the girl. Resting the gun in her hands, she turned a smile at Simon. "I think I can manage."

A normal Simon would have laughed. War Simon quirked an unsteady grin (he really wished he had an extra belt for his team because man, did that girl have quite the precision in her shooting) and looked to Liz for a time confirmation. With only one minute left, the kids scattered back to their forts and battle strategies. Derek got to his feet slowly and stepped towards the girl putting on the purple-flagged belt.

"You won't last five minutes in this game." No way was he going to call it by its name, Soak-and-Splash-'Em-Hide-and-Catch-'Em, because that would be taking it as seriously as his brother. He did not want to go there. But something made him want to put this new girl back in her place. Maybe the way she willingly wanted to join this ridiculousness. Probably the wet spot on his shorts.

Blue eyes blinked at him. "I think I heard that in a movie."

"You're hearing it from me now."

"I-is-is that a th-th-threat?"

He shrugged. "Could be. Who knows? All I'm saying is your fancy little water gun tricks won't help you win."

"Tough words for a guy who rolled his eyes through the whole introduction ceremony."

"Derek!"

He ignored Simon, who probably only wanted to go over last minute attack plans and hiding spots good for ambushes. "Just be careful who you bait here."

That seemed to get her because she stepped up, coming toe to toe with him. Simon was still calling his name in the background, but Derek's attention was on the blond. "I wouldn't underestimate me if I w-w-were you."

"_DER-EK_! Get out of the open!"

"Who says I'm underestimating—?"

A whistle rang throughout the park. The girl ducked down, grabbed at Derek's waist, and ran past him. Before ducking into a patch of trees, she called out, "Too late!"

She was waving a green flag at him.

In the bushes off to his side, Simon yelled, "_Dammit, Derek!_"

* * *

><p><span>Authoress's Notes: <span> I have Mulan on repeat right now because it came up on my shuffle as I was typing this and it totally fit the mood. All Disney aside, though, so sorry for this lateness. Because, as you can see, it is undoubtedly NOT Friday, Friday. In fact, now it is Sunday. It was Saturday before, but you probably all know that (Rebecca Black's such an AWESOME days-of-the-week teacher, isn't she?). Once again, this week got more hectic than I wanted it to be, and Thursday night I was hard core studying for an exam (this is a stellar accomplishment because I never-repeat NEVER-study). And Friday I was so busy I passed out at, like, eight. Would've worked on this today (well, Saturday) but I spent this day with my roomie, as it's the first free day I've had in awhile.

So, this isn't finished yet. I was so tired of trying to finish this, and I didn't want to make you guys wait any longer, so I put up what I had. Which means this will be another chapter that gets to be continued in another week's chapter. Not next week, though, because I already have the absolute BEST idea ever for next week, but this will be finished some other time. We need to see the outcome of this war. We need to defeat the Huns.

Somehow, Chloe will make a man out of Derek. I need to stop this. Oh, geez.

My roomie and I bought some Halloween decorations for our room. We got this awesome sign for our door that says 'Beware of Zombies'. She also got me a darling little ghost plushie. I feel this is a successful day for the DP nerd in me.

Okay, hope you all had delightful Fridays/Saturdays/early, early Sunday mornings. Thanks for reading/reviewing. And remember: We must be strong as the coursing river. With all the force of a great typhoon. With all the strength of a raging fire. Mysterious as the dark side of the moon.

God, I love that song.


	14. Gotta Get Down on Friday

I Got This, You Got This

One-shot 13:

"Gotta Get Down On Friday"

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><p>Summary: "I need to check if you have an oxygen imbalance that could stop your blood from flowing." "Come again?" "I think you're in shock."<p>

* * *

><p>She hadn't known she was crying until a pair of firm arms helped her up and a voice asked if she was all right. It sounded so far away, that voice, but the man's mouth couldn't have been farther than a few inches from her ear. In fact, she was pretty sure he was almost outright yelling at her, raising his voice to be heard among the commotion. Though it didn't register how loud it all was until the man led her outside the building onto the street. There was still a giant hoopla going on outside, but compared to inside, it was the Sistine Chapel. Chloe Saunders laughed, but all that came out were bubbling sobs and hiccups.<p>

For all she knew, this man was taking her to some abandoned alley somewhere to finish her off. He could be the partner of that other man, the one that stared at her from the opposite end of a shining gray barrel. A watery moan fell past her lips and her knees wobbled so hard that her feet stopped working. "N-n-no-no-n-nooo."

The man had to stop to wrap his arms around her waist before she fell to the ground. Chloe tried to help steady herself, but all movement in her legs had disappeared. Running away from this unknown man wasn't an option, and all that she could do was hang on as his hands dug into her flesh, holding her upright. Sharp pops tore through the air, and Chloe screamed, her arms flailing over her head. A hand pressed on the back of her neck, guiding her to duck down. Whoever had his grip on her was keeping her tucked under him as he ran to wherever he was leading her. She kept up with his pace only because she was sure he was dragging her along, not because she was actually doing any of the legwork.

More shouts came from around them, but Chloe couldn't see them. He was hugging her to his chest, her cheek cushioned against his rough vest and her eyes finally registering the brass badge with the eagle and buffalo on it. Buffalo Police Department. A policeman. A shaky sigh of relief released from her mouth, and as he aided her over a curb, she saw the name sewn onto the vest: D. Souza.

He yelled into her ear again, but she couldn't hear. Sirens were growing louder as they approached a caravan of ambulances. D. Souza came to a halt and lifted Chloe with one arm, seating her on the edge of the back of one ambulance. Around them, paramedics were rolling stretchers towards the building they'd just left, while others were already checking over people Chloe recognized from inside the bank, people who had been huddled on the floor just feet away from her. A couple spotted her and nodded in her direction, but she shook her head, wiping the moisture from her face. The sirens faded out as paramedics turned them off, lending an atmosphere of calm over the pandemonium outside.

Movement in front of her made her look at D. Souza again. Broad-shouldered and decked out in dark blue-black uniform of an officer, he looked like he should be off barreling down suspects somewhere, not tending to bank robbery victims. Sweat streaked the ends of his short, black hair, dripping onto his forehead and the sides of his face. Still, Chloe couldn't help but feel an immediate sense of calm as she looked over his haggard appearance. Her savior, consulting with an invisible person on the other end of his radio and running a hand over his face. Out of all the other cops busting through the doors of the bank, he had been the one to run by her side, haul her up, and get her out of that horrible situation.

Putting the radio back in its holster on his belt, he gestured to a medic near the ambulance. As the medic neared, D. Souza pointed at Chloe and turned on his heel. Panicking, Chloe jumped from the ambulance and landed unsteadily on her feet, clinging to his arm. A wave of exhaustion swept over her, making her sway backwards, but the officer caught her by the elbows and settled her back on the ambulance. When he seemed to be leaving again, Chloe sank her nails into his arms and kept him rooted. "N-n-n-no. _N-No_."

Instead of looking sympathetic, which is what Chloe would have preferred, D. Souza appeared to be mildly irritated. He shooed off the paramedic and grabbed a blanket from inside the ambulance. Unfolding it, he draped it over her shoulders and made sure it fit snug around her torso. Chloe held the sides together, and he took the chance to grab her hand and place his first two fingers on the inside of her wrist.

"Wh-what are you doing?" She had to licked her lips three times before the words could form, her mouth was so dry. She tugged her wrist away, but he caught it again and kept a tight grip.

"Checking for an irregular pulse."

"Why?"

"Don't talk." He moved his fingers deeper into her skin. Chloe could feel the throbbing of her own veins against his fingertips. "I need to check if you have an oxygen imbalance that could stop your blood from flowing the way it should."

"Come again?"

"I think you're in shock."

"Oh." Of all the things she expected D. Souza to tell her, a science lesson wasn't one of them. "I learned that in health class."

He kept one hand on her wrist and his other touching his own pulse on his neck. Unconsciously, he was counting to a minute under his breath, brows clustered together in concentration. Finally, she seemed to pass inspection because he let go of her wrist. Next, though, he reached behind her for the blood pressure cuff. As he strapped the cuff around her upper arm, Chloe asked, "Should you really be doing that?"

"No." From inside the ambulance again, he grabbed a stethoscope and waved a hand in the direction of the bank. "I should be out there, helping arrest the guy that did this. So, we're going to be quick about this because he's still running around with a gun. I can't baby you forever." When she bit her bottom lip so hard it bled, he cursed. "Shit, you were asking if I should be handling the medical equipment, weren't you?"

Chloe didn't answer, and he bumped his fist against the ambulance door. "Look, I'm a certified EMT, and I know basic first aid."

"Bet you aced all your high school biology classes."

"Sure did." He plugged the stethoscope into his ears, holding the other end up to her elbow and squeezing the valve of the blood pressure cuff. It swelled rapidly on her arm, a comfortable crushing sensation that reminded her of visits to her aunt's clinic as a kid. As she opened her mouth to remark on this, he shot her a warning glance and told her once more not to speak. So, she let him do his business and nothing alarmed him, so he took the cuff and stethoscope and threw them back into the ambulance. Not completely sanitary, but when Chloe pointed this out to him, D. Souza only ignored her.

A buzz from his radio came through and he leaned away to answer it. His expression was even more agitated when he put it away, telling her, "The suspect's been apprehended."

"Sorry."

"What for?"

"You wanted to catch him, didn't you?"

His shoulders jumped in surprise, and he relaxed. "Yeah." Then, he reached his hand out and blocked her eyes. "I'm seeing if your pupils dilate correctly. I'd rather see that you live than chase after that bastard."

Her spine bolted upright. "You can _die_ from shock?" She struggled to wrestle his hand away from her face.

"I thought you said you learned about it in health class," a soft breath sounding like laughter escaped him, and Chloe glared at him from behind his hand. "Anyways, you don't seem to be disoriented, but it's customary to ask some questions to make sure you're in the clear. Do you remember your name?"

"C-Chloe Saunders."

"You don't sound so sure about that."

"I have a st-stutter!"

"Okay, okay. So, Chloe Saunders, do you know what day it is?"

"Friday, the eleventh—"

He waved off the rest of her sentence. "Yeah, you got that. Do you remember why you were at the bank today?"

"I-It's pay day. I was dropping off my check, and-an-and," she choked on her words.

D. Souza was silent, waiting until she apparently realized she couldn't bring herself to say anymore. When he made to move his hand from her eyes, one of hers flew up to hold it in place. Chloe liked the darkness it provided her because she wouldn't have to look at his face, see the reminder of his rescue and what had almost happened moments before that. Clearing his throat, he said, "Look, Miss Saunders—Chloe—I'm going to need to take a statement from you, so it's best if you just get it out with here and now. Don't keep it bottled in because then it'll just come back and bite you in the ass later."

She nodded, still flattening his hand against her eyes. Tears were falling from them again, probably wetting his fingers, but he didn't jerk his hand away so she let it stay there. "He...He just walked in and puh-pulled out a g-g-gu-g-gu—"

"Gun. He pulled out a gun. Just slow down and get your words out. Don't think about them."

"A _g-gun_. He pulled out a gun and st-started telling us to-to get on the ground," she paused, sucking in a deep breath because her throat kept closing up. "Then he told the teller to g-g-give him all the money. A-a-a-and I d-duh-don't know what happened. He j-just kept yelling at us to get down, g-get down, and there was a gu-gunshot, and I sc-screamed and then he was p-pointing the g-g-gun at m-m-m-"

The hand lifted from her eyes. Moss-green eyes stared back at her through blurry tears. "Your eyes responded perfectly. I think it's safe to say you're not in shock."

Chloe blinked, face heating as D. Souza backed away and responded to another call on his radio. He faced her a moment later, head bowed apologetically. "I have to go now. I'll get someone else to look over you again, get a second opinion, but I'm pretty sure you'll do fine. Here," he climbed up into the ambulance, walking farther back and returned with a clipboard. Tearing off half the sheet of the form held down by the clasp, he took the attached pen and scribbled something on the paper. "These are some directions to the precinct, if you need them. I'll have to ask you to come in to write down your statement. Just ask for Derek and someone will direct you to me."

"Derek?" She looked down at the paper, and there was his name, Derek Souza, scrawled down in big block letters. She pointed to the number at the very bottom. "What's this?"

"My cell." A hand hovered over hers, hesitant, before finally resting and slightly squeezing her fingers. "Chloe, if you have any problems—if you're not feeling all right, I want you to call that number."

"But you just said I'm fine."

"Physically, yes, you are." Now, he was gripping both of her hands, forcing her to stare into his eyes which no longer seemed quite as irritated at being kept detained by her. "But something happened to you today, Chloe, and it's not going to go away anytime soon. If you need someone to talk to—someone whose been through the same thing..."

"You were h-held at g-gunpoint?"

A shoulder shrug. "It kind of comes with the job. Look, all I'm saying is this will mess with your head for awhile. I suck at this interpersonal bullshit, but you're going to need someone to at least listen. So, if you wanted—I mean, it doesn't have to be me, I might not even answer my phone some days, but if you leave a message—I can—"

"Thanks, Derek. That'll be c-cheaper than therapy." She curled her fingers around the paper, thinking that it she pressed the pen ink close enough to her palm, it'd help her memorize his number. He'd thrown her a lifeline, and she hadn't even been sure he saw her as something other than a hindrance keeping him from his job.

"Yeah, well, in this economy—"

Chloe moved across the space between them, and kissed Derek Souza's cheek. Leaning back, she saw that he froze, eyes wide and filled with confusion. Maybe he was the one in shock now.

* * *

><p><span>Authoress's Notes:<span> I think my Itunes shuffle is possessed because it plays a crap ton of Disney songs whenever I write DP. Hell yeah, I could listen to the Beauty & the Beast soundtrack all day long if I had the time. I should write a song-fic collection for a B&B song when I'm done with Friday... Hmm...

Anyways, happy Friday! Everyone get down! In a partyin', partyin' way, not in the way Chloe got down, cuz that's sad. The moment I sat down to think of an idea for this chapter, back in the summer, I immediately came up with this, and it was supposed to be another funny-ish chapter. Except it came out more serious. Which is totally awesome because it was a wonderful tribute to my precious CSI: NY (the true inspiration behind this chapter and the reason why I was so excited to write it).

"When I get home, I'm going to scrub this place like a crime scene...which it is because you've murdered joy." That's from Modern Family, another one of my TV loves. I thought it was appropriate.

If I wasn't so hell-bent on being a writer/editor, I would so be a crime scene investigator. With a bunch of witty one-liners, to boot.

Thanks for reading/reviewing!


	15. Everyone's Lookin' Forward

I Got This, You Got This

One-shot 14:

"Everybody's Lookin' Forward to the Weekend, Weekend"

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><p>Summary: "You've got me?" "Yeah." "What if you had more than just me?"<p>

* * *

><p>It had been a whole month, and she was getting fat. Nothing noticeable, at least to anyone but herself. Soon, though, everyone would see the ballooning of her stomach, the ever-growing presence of another being inside her. She refused to think of it as a human yet. Not until it came out with ten fingers, ten toes, and no furry tail. Until then, it was just this mysterious being, making her puke her guts out and her jeans fit too tightly.<p>

She still hadn't told Derek.

No one knew, and she'd gotten quite adept at hiding it. When Tori commented the other day that her friend's shirt was a bit tight around the bust area, Chloe told her it shrunk in the wash. The next day, she'd gone on a solo shopping spree and bought loose, fuzzy sweaters, and larger pants for the months to come. Then, she came home and stashed it all deep in her closet before Derek got home.

Chloe was doing a lot of things before Derek came home each day. Ripping open doctor's letters and stuffing them in the back of her sock drawer. Spraying the bathroom with a liberal amount of Febreeze and making sure all vomit was cleaned from the toilet. Layering on bulky sweaters and taking a chance to stare at her bare, increasing tummy in the mirror and wondering just what was going on in there. Derek would come home then, and she'd tug the sweaters down and run out to ask him how his day was. He'd ask her what the deal was with all the sweaters and she'd tell him the apartment was just _so cold_.

Today was different, though. She'd stayed at work later than usual. Glancing down at the digital numbers in the corner of her computer screen, she sighed and finished up the email she was sending. After six, so Derek was sure to be home already, wondering why this was the first day in a month she'd decided to work overtime. Chloe wondered the same thing, why she'd volunteered to stay when her boss asked if anyone could. Normally, she was in a rush to get out of there at the end of the day, before anyone could stop and try to chat with her because as the weeks passed, the anxiety was tempting her more and more to just spill the beans. As much as she stalled with telling Derek, he still should be the first to know, not some stranger at her place of employment.

"Chloe!" She'd been in the process of putting her cell in her purse and replacing it in her hand with her car keys when she heard her boss call her name. The woman, nearing her forties, was decked out in a tight black pencil skirt and top that showed too much skin for Chloe's taste, looking more like she had dressed for a night out clubbing instead of working. Nice as her boss seemed, Chloe didn't really trust a woman who wore bright red lipstick into an office, unlike all the other woman who walked through the door. Standing beside the older woman, Chloe felt like a frump in her oversized business casual sweater and gray slacks, reminding herself that she wouldn't be wearing any sexy clothes for the next seven months.

"You are such a dear for staying. I really appreciate it," her boss said, placing her hand on Chloe's arm. "I'm sure you'd rather be at home with that big, hulking man of yours than sit around here."

Chloe waved her hand, shaking her head. "No problem, I'm always glad to be a help. And I'm sure Derek can find something to do without me for a couple of hours."

Her boss giggled, a strange high-pitched sound coming from a woman who could be as old as Chloe's aunt. "Probably using this time to hang out with the guys when you're not around. You know boys will be boys."

Not exactly, Chloe wanted to tell her. Simon and Kit were out of town on some out-of-the-blue trip. Tweak 'guys' around to 'books' and then maybe her boss would've guessed Derek's alone time plans correctly.

"So, I bet you're looking forward to this three day weekend, with this holiday coming up. Got any big plans? Going on any special dates?"

"Nope. I think we're just going to take the weekend to relax. I'm going out with my friend Tori on Sunday for brunch, and—"

"Oh, _honey_," the grip on Chloe's arm began to squeeze harder. "Is something wrong? When couples stop spending time together, that means something serious is going on. You know you can tell me. I'd hate to see you lose such a strong, young man."

Chloe patted her boss's hand, taking the chance to dislodge the clenched fingers from around her arm. "Nope, nothing's wrong." Derek had accused her of seeing things that weren't there, but Chloe swore that at the the last company picnic, her boss had been eying her boyfriend with the look of a hungry wild predator. "Ten years, and we're still going strong," she resisted the urge to rub that fact in her boss's face, but her tone still hinted at a warning.

Her boss looked her over with a concerned expression that managed to also look pitying. "I just don't know these days, dear. And you know men nowadays, when a woman starts to let go of herself." The woman leaned forward, eyes shifting but lighting up excitedly with gossip. "You didn't hear this from me, but there are some rumors going around that you've gained weight. Who knows, maybe your Derek might start to notice and want someone a bit...slimmer."

_As you run your hand over your trim waist_, Chloe couldn't help but bite her cheek before she said something she'd regret. Even more, she had to stop herself from saying something like, _We're having a baby. _Though the strained look on her boss's face as she offered a congratulations and thought of how she'd been foiled from younger man meat, Chloe knew it wasn't right. She couldn't go around using her unborn child as a weapon against woman who found Derek attractive. Besides, _she_ was having a baby. Derek didn't even know about it. It was still her own secret. A secret she had to tell him...when she got around to it.

Thanking her boss, she said her relationship was just fine and bid good bye before she could be tempted to say any more that she shouldn't.

* * *

><p>Derek was sprawled out on the couch when she opened the door to the apartment, one arm over his face and the other holding open a book against his stomach. His chest was slowly rising and falling, but it didn't fool Chloe. Walking over, she set her things down on the coffee table and sat on the edge of the couch near his stretched out legs. Carefully, she took the book from between his fingers, mindful of keeping his place before placing it next to her purse and snuggling up beside him. His one arm slipped around her, letting out a content breath that ended in a soft snore.<p>

"You're not sleeping, Derek."

"How would you know? I could have had a long day," came his mumble, accompanied with a teasing grin.

"Not as long as mine," Chloe said into his shirt. _And you don't have to walk around hauling a three-month old fetus_.

"It just has to be about you, doesn't it?"

"Only always." She lifted her head and planted a kiss on his jaw. He dove down to capture her lips with hers, but she got up at the last second and asked, "We're not doing anything this weekend, right?"

"I have some ideas, but they all involve staying indoors. Why?"

"No reason," she called behind her as she made her way into the kitchen. An aluminum foil pan of lasagna was sitting on top of the stove, a corner of it missing. Derek had already helped himself to some dinner, but Chloe still took two plates out from a cabinet and filled them, giving one a larger helping. Grabbing a fork, she took a small bite from the plate with the smaller portion, shook her head and stuck it in the microwave. "My boss thinks we're going to break up because we don't spend all our time together."

"We do spend all our time together."

"We do not!" She pulled out her plate from the microwave and stuck the other one in to be reheated. Derek got off the couch and stretched the muscles in his arms before taking a seat at the kitchen table.

"But we live together. That's spending all our time together."

Chloe rolled her eyes, bringing both plates to the table. "Living together is living together. It is not spending all our time together. I work, you work. I go out with friends, you go out with Simon. And at the end of the day, we just happen to meet each other at home and spend time together then."

"I still spend most of my time with you. I like spending all my time with you."

She knew she shouldn't encourage that behavior, but it made her mouth widen in a giant smile. It was in his werewolf nature to only want to be with his pack, and to know, even after all this time, he continued to count her as one of those very important family members made her heart do funny things. "Fine, fine. You win. I guess I should tell my boss she has nothing to worry about because we do spend all our time together."

"Why does she have to know? It's not her business."

"She wants to make it her business." Chloe nudged his shin with her foot. "She thinks you're a strapping young man, by the way."

"So?"

"So, I'm not taking you to anymore company picnics if you're going to lead my boss on like that."

"Lead your boss o—" He dropped his fork onto his plate and glared as Chloe burst out into laughter. "That's not funny."

"It was to me," she held her hand over her mouth to stop the laughter. "But seriously, Derek, you better watch out for her. She's on the prowl. A veritable cougar."

Derek growled deep in his throat, probably not liking the idea of a cougar coming after him. It had nothing to do with her age being nearly twice his, but everything to do with the fact that dogs just don't like cats. To that day, Chloe found it amusing whenever she remembered his interactions with Maya, a were-cougar who had also had problems with the Edison Group.

He got up, already finished with his lasagna. Looking down at hers, Chloe noted she had barely taken three bites. Her belly was feeling queasy again, so she didn't want to push it. From the kitchen sink where he was setting down his plate and fork, Derek told her, "She better prowl somewhere else. I've got you."

Chloe turned around in her chair, crossing her arms over the back and resting her head. Watching as he searched under the sink to retrieve a wash cloth and dish soap, she asked, "You've got me?"

"Yeah."

"What if you had more than just me?"

He grunted, turning on the faucet and beginning to wash the dirty dishes. "What's that mean? I've got you, that's enough. I don't want any more."

Chloe stood from her chair, crossed the room to the coffee table and rummaged through her purse until she found the square piece of paper she'd stuck in there the week before. Derek was watching her every move from the kitchen sink, as if sensing that the conversation had somehow taken a much different direction. Each step Chloe took towards him, her feet grew heavier and heavier, but somehow, she made it over to where he stood and was holding out the ultrasound picture.

He took it, staring into her eyes and stalling before finally looking down. At first, his brows scrunched together in confusion, as he made out the shape of the round head, the disproportioned limbs, but Derek was smart and he caught on pretty quickly. Slapped with the truth, his head jolted up, eyes combing over the chubbier stomach under her sweater, the thicker breasts, the guilty expression on her face as she tried to avoid her gaze. A sharp breath left his nostrils, but he looked the picture of calm, save for the slightly shaking hand holding the picture the doctor had given her to keep.

"How long?"

"Almost thirteen weeks."

He swore, arms falling to his side. In his other hand, the soapy wash cloth was dripping onto his pant leg, and it took him a minute to realize,swearing again and throwing the rag into the sink. Scratching the back of his neck, he looked down at the picture again, glancing from it to Chloe and back. Turnign around, he leaned on the kitchen counter, gripping the edge until his knuckles turned white and he almost crumpled up the photo. He stopped himself, took the picture and set it down on the counter, rubbing a hand over it to straighten out the wrinkles. "That's three months, so it was back in...How long have you known?"

"Awhile..." Chloe bit her lip, leaning against the counter as well and tentatively laying her head on his shoulder. "I wanted to tell you, but...I wasn't even sure I wanted to...That it—th-that we should..."

"But you've decided now, right? Or else you wouldn't be telling me. We're keeping it, aren't we?"

She nodded against his shoulder and whispered, "Yes...I want it, Derek."

"Me...Me, too. I think—" For once, the man who was usually telling her to slow down before she stumbled over her words was having trouble himself trying to express his thoughts. Chloe stood behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso and rubbing her hands along his chest in a comforting gesture. "I think I want it—to be a girl. They can tell those things. We can know early. When did you get this done?" He nodded at the picture, holding it closer in front of his nose as if that could tell him what he wanted to know.

"Last week. I asked then if they could, and—and they said it was a boy."

Derek's shoulders slumped, the most heartbreaking deflation she'd ever seen. She held him tighter, telling him quickly, "That's only a guess. It could still be a girl. The do-doctor s-s-said it was better to wait until somewhere between the si-sixteenth and twentieth weeks for a more accurate result. But I really, really wanted t-t-to know. You can come with me next time, we'll ask again. It might be a girl."

"One that has bogeymen for imaginary friends." Chloe winced. "Sorry."

"No, no. You're right. Either way, there's a high chance." A high chance any child of theirs could be a monster, be a supernatural with even more uncontrollable abilities. "Aunt Lauren..."

"Does she know?"

"Not yet."

"Let's keep this a secret for awhile. I don't want to make any hasty decisions, make the same mistakes our parents made. I mean—we're not mistakes. Just—shit, I don't know what I'm saying. I just...I don't know."

And that's what was killing him, the having no idea where to go from there. Chloe took his arm, guiding him to turn around and face her. He looked so lost, so not like the Derek she had always known, and she knew how it felt. She'd already felt those emotions before, still felt them whenever she was reminded there was another living being inside her. Cradling his face in her hands, she stood on tiptoe to kiss him, deeply and fully on the mouth. He instantly reached for her, clung to her warmth and pulled her towards him until he felt the bump of her stomach press against him and he let go.

Pulling away, Chloe told him, "We can't keep it secret forever, you know. I'm getting fatter by the day."

"You're not fat. You're pregnant."

She chuckled. That was a typical Derek observation if she ever heard one. "What I'm saying is we should take this weekend to relax, and next week, drop the bomb on everyone."

"Do we have to?"

"Yes, we do." She kissed him again. "I've already had some time to get used to it. You get a weekend, Derek. Let's make the most of it."

* * *

><p><span>Authoress's Notes:<span> Heyyy! I'm back! How's everyone been? I'm good, very good. I went home a couple weeks ago, celebrated my twentieth birthday, got some new shoes, saw the new Footloose, ate Indian food and almost burned my esophagus-but all that's unimportant, because I finally got around to typing up this chapter. That's a big accomplishment. It is just getting significantly harder and harder to get these things up. BUT! To apologize for taking forever to update, I have granted many a reviewer's wish and continued the idea of "Gotta Make My Mind Up". AND! I shall continue it even more, in a future one-shot. So, that's my gift for you.

Because now here comes the bad news:

**I will be on hiatus until after December 16th. **

Yes, this is a big disappointment, and I feel bad, but life has gotten completely crazy now, and it's only going to get crazier. On top of the usual classes and work and social stuff, I am now involved in two organizations on my campus, one in which I am the treasurer so I have more responsibility. I'm also going to spend the next couple of weeks applying for a job at our writing center, as well as try out for a student manager position at the job I already have.

And my biggest, most time-sucking responsibility is National Novel Writing Month, for all of November. Because that starts in like, three days and I've been planning out my novel all summer (10+ pages of plot outlining and character building, boo-freaking-yah!). So any time I have for writing will be dedicated to that, not my fanfiction. In the meantime, I'll be detailing my NaNoWriMo efforts on my blog because I've started one of those to keep track of all my research (probably wasn't the best choice to write a historical fiction novel in only one month...). I'll be putting a link up to that on my profile, in case anyone's interested enough in reading my crazy, struggling-author's ramblings.

I would continue this one-shot collection after November is over (and my novel is, fingers crossed, completed), but right after I come back to school from Thanksgiving break, my school goes on this intense preparation for finals, so I'll be studying all crazy-like. Which is why I will not be updating until my winter break starst, after Dec. 16th. Because after that date, I get to spend a whole relatively stress-free month at home doing nothing but watch tv and read and write (last year, I read about 27 books in the three and a half weeks I was out of school. It was really nice).

Now, I'm off to feast on Gushers and Diet Wild Cherry Pepsi as I do more research for my novel and cry about how I'm never going to finish 50,000 words in 30 days. Wish me luck!

Oh, yeah, and Happy Halloween! (Too bad it's on a Monday, when I work, and not on a Friday, when I can go partyin', partyin'...)


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